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HE
DUKE
ITY SCHOO
REVIEW

Winter 197i

THE
pUKE
DIVINITY SCHOOL
REVIEW

Volume 41 Winter 1976 Number 1

CONTENTS

About Preaching 3

Fundaments of Competent Ministry 5

by Carlyle Marney

Ten Tests for Preaching 16

by John Ber gland

In the 'On Deck Circle' 21

by Paul Mickey

Lectionary Preaching 25

by Lloyd Bailey

Ordination and the Theology of the Cross 36

by David C. Steinmetz

Some New Books Related to Preaching 41

Focus on Faculty 43

by Edwin R. Garrison

Book Reviews 47

Editor: Creighton Lacy; Associate Editors: John Bcrgland, Donn
Michael Farris, Roland E. Murphy, Charles Robinson, John
Westerhoff, Laine Calloway, Stephen Cross.

Published three times a year (Winter, Spring, Fall)
by the Divinity School of Duke University

Postage paid at Durham, North CaroHna, 27706

Alo #

About Preaching

This issue of the Review is about preaching. In recent years,
preaching has been ridiculed, maligned, and dispossessed even by
those whose ordination sets them aside for the ministry of word.
The prologue of the gospel of John calls the chief actor in all
things "The Word," and the great reformers viewed this whole area
as absolutely central in the life of the church. Yet preaching has
seemed empty and futile for many persons in ministry, and they
have hoped for more significant activities such as counseling, edu-
cation, community action, small groups, etc. These are vital minis-
tries, but they have not yet displaced preaching as an integral part
of the life of the Church.

There are many evidences of the enduring power and mystery
of preaching and some suggestions that we are now in a renaissance
of interest and purpose relative to true preaching. The articles
that follow will encourage all those who have anything at all to do
with "the word preached and heard" to lift high their expectations
for the place of the pulpit in the Christian Church.

Carlyle Marney, who has helped many preachers to discover a
dialogical learning — teaching — preaching — being in the community
of faith, describes vividly and helpfully "The Fundaments of Com-
petent Ministry." He suggests that the word "competent" could
be changed to "pastoral" or "preaching" (The Fundaments of
Preaching Ministry),

Some new resources for Biblical preaching are related to the
ecumenical lectionary — (COCU 1974). Vatican Council II declared
that at mass "the treasures of the Bible should be opened up more
lavishly so that richer fare might be provided for the faithful at
the table of God's word." The development of a new Roman
Catholic lectionary beginning in 1970 followed. American Protes-
tants, some of them consulted in the preparation of said lectionary,
considered the Roman Catholic Lessons as they revised their own
books of worship. There is sufficient unity in the resulting lection-
aries of several traditions to allow an inter-denominational publi-
cation of aids for interpreting the Lessons of the Church Year. This
series of twenty-five books entitled Proclamation is reviewed by
Lloyd Bailey, and the matter of lectionary preaching is addressed.

The thrust of these articles suggest that homiletics is not simply
a branch of rhetoric but in fact belongs to the total theological
enterprise. The Greek word, homUeein, means to be in company
with. Homiletics at its best and truest is informed and inspired by
the interaction of all the disciplines of theological education and
is then fleshed out in real life situations in relationships with God
and his people.

— John Bergland

Fundaments of Competent Ministry

by Carlyle Marney

Visiting Professor of Preaching

When Karl Menninger was putting together his latest book, he
asked in a letter if I thought him presumptuous to address a book
to clergy. "I want to tell them," he wrote, "that we psychiatrists
do not know all the answers and it is no good trying to imitate us
with or without fees." Indeed, coming from such a man, there was
no presumption, and considerable grace emerges when he did go
on to say, "/ do not think they (clergy) realize what poiuer they have
at their command to do the very things they want to do. . . ."

Not since Charles Dickens was giving us such a hard time of it
in Pickwick Papers have Christian ministers appeared in sorrier
plight. Vis-a-vis our culture and its institutions of value who hears
a truly helpful voice? If our society threshes about like a huge
boa, its head in the noose of a trap, if little creatures are crushed
in its writhings and if there's none to quiet the beast, is it because
(as the Wakefield Master put it, c. 1425) "are we all hand-tamed by
these gentry?"

I still think not. But it is a presumptuous affair in any culture
when one sets out to speak of, to, or for God — much less before so
"knowing" a populace as ours. We have always had a hard time
of it. Augustine complained of his clergy as "a couple of unpre-
tentious sheep dogs." Charlemagne sent for Alcuin to give ignorant
preachers something worth hearing to say. Chaucer has a line on
"shitey shepherds and their shitey sheep." Jonathan Swift flailed
out at the Scottish Divines as delivering "oracular belches to . . .
panting disciples." Yet, that Charles Dickens version of Methodist
preachers: unctuous, mewling, greedy; across 150 years it stings!

Now educators, physicians, lawyers are, by and large, in as bad
a case, except that budgets and fees allow them the dubious advan-
tage of more self-respect (or self-deception!). What seems missing?
Are we all "hand-tamed by these gentry"?

Neither education, nor opportunity, nor coinage is lacking,
really. Rather, most everywhere, we clergy have low self-esteem:
hence we lose what we had to say, and the pasture in which to say
it! Dr. Menninger tells us that we must not fear to be rejjro;ichful.

He asks us to make like Jeremiah, Amos, Micah, and John the
Baptist.

Now all of us know that the nerve to be reproachful will never
make possible a ministry. A broader base than that negative gift
is required — but I answered Dr. Menninger by saying that an
inordinately high percentage of the clergy we see at Interpreters'
House do not have enough sense of "I," worth, integrity, ego
maturity to damn a church-mouse, much less an entire culture. So
we start there.

Christianly, we have more to say to, for, with, on account of,
and in behalf of Man than from any other stance we could take:
if we have done our home-work and if we have enough ego-strength
to say /. By home-work I mean that decades-long process of inquiry,
hat in hand, begun long years before seminary, continued forever
after, addressed to competent psychology, psychiatry, sociology,
history, drama, art, daily affairs, interpreted by a growing Biblical
memory, contemporary experience, theological acumen, into some
kind of understanding of our Christian Advantage: we really do
know about Man; and, we really have been shown the way to an
Ultimate Earth. But where on such a venture does one start?

The noted Jesuit, Gustav Weigel, in public exchange with Paul
Tillich, told of an Italian peasant who asked how long it would
take to make his son a priest: "It depends, nine years if Benedictine;
twelve years if Dominican; but if he wants to be a Jesuit like myself,
'twould take fifteen years!" And the old man replied, "Well,
Father, I suspect my son had best be a Jesuit, he is a little slow!"
So are we all — slow — and no seminary on earth can do in three
years or six years or fifteen what it takes to make competent a
ministry of the Gospel of God; but — competency for ministry can
be grasped at there, the quest can focus itself there, tools and skills
can be gotten there, resources for the long haul can be identified
there, friends and heroes for the journey, with bread, can come
together there. This, for me, is what seminary is about. I have
learned to work with certain fundaments always in view.

My seminary seemed to aim at making me able "to tell." I
needed all six years of it and am grateful, but I had to come at my
inability "to hear" another way. No one can tell until he can hear,
and who can hear except as he is heard? This is why the first
fundament of any life that is dialogical in form must come to terms
with the shadoiu side of new-being. It is an axiom of ministry:

called to bless, no one can bless any other until he-she can bless
his-her own origins; and, no one can bless who has not also the
power to damn. The / must be able to say yes and no, but it must
be able to say yes to its sources. Hence, somewhere, sometimes,
someone must rub my nose in the motives that moved me to seek
high calling, else I am never house broken and continue to soil
the temple I set out to serve.

This "shadow-side" is all of me that is not visible of or to me.
Neither good nor bad, it is just there with unorchestrated voices,
unnamed terrors, unrecognized dominions all its own. My cellar,
darker and danker than I knew, is not really ventilated by my
attempts to baptize and/or circumcize the primal powers that push
little Id to make me serve the self. In religion's holy name I over-
lay these images with the material of piety as my culture and region
afford, but discover I do not really face these primals of original sin
alone. Some thou, some other, must mid-wife me on this labor. It
is a journey to depth, never completed, always dangerous, and the
door to my" redemption even as it is door to my "private church."
To fish out that cistern, label its old skeletons and carcasses of
primal powers: infantile lust, rapine, and greed — this is humanum.

And, one can drown there, in the very waters of new-birth,
unless the / begins to see early an original salvation: To wit, from
wherever I started I was loved or I loould not have been kept!

"Yea, strangling in your own after-birth, I . . . bade you live . . . tended
you like an evergreen. . . .

Ezek. 16:6, 7

There was for any / some significant other.

From here / can begin to make peace: with the culture that
spawned me, with the parents who shaped and mis-shaped me;
with the institutions that provincialized, distorted, and preserved
my values. From here the / can go through home again. / can
accept and bless the stuff God had at his disposal for making me.
/ realize that somewhere on my road, with some other, / did become
a new creation — lust began to become love, rapine became com-
munion, hate turned to concern, and greed began to rest content.
As Otis Rice taught me thirty-five years ago, the / is never really
shocked now; / have been inside. Never really ineligible now, /
have substitutes to priest those who still threaten me. In Oman's
words, I know God has other messengers. I no longer have to bless
them all. I am no more the universal mother. My omnipotence
bubble has sprung a permanent leak. I have become to myself a

vulnerable biological specimen with infinite potential for person-
hood and a high calling, but no more. No longer God, I can be
Man and can deal with grief just because guilt is no longer im-
possible to be borne. I can be priest now, for somewhere along
the way, in being heard, and loved, I began to learn to hear, and
love. Here, I can endure myself as the sinner I am if I wear the
clericals of any contemporary regiment of semi-holy men. But /
need a better perspective.

This new perspective is primarily personal, and is, therefore,
theological in a proper sense. Dan Zeluff, my colleague at Inter-
preters' House, works also with a psychiatric firm in Asheville. He
claims to have heard no person whose concerns were not theological.
The becoming-person-priest is always theologian; personal-theo-
logian and hence theological-person. That is to say, the person
is always person before some thou and a Thou. For the working
priest this means not so much dogmatic theology; he may be really
less than a systematic theologian — the perspective for persons-in-
relation is a relational-theology — that is to say, the /-in-company
comes at making-hearing persons through an Instrumental Theol-
ogy.

Instrumental theology stays always in the dative case. It is
always means of seeing-thinking-interpreting, never end in itself.
It knows that God Almighty is nominative case, always subject, but
it uses the Name haltingly and with a proper stammer. Its immedi-
ate subject is Man, and the theologian's stance is always fides
quarens intellectum, which means this theology is sometimes even
rational theology, attempts to be systematic, even properly dog-
matic, but is not thereby ever merely adjectival theology. This
priest-person does not fall into or remain in the traps, fads, ex-
travagances of denominational or regional or national or racial
theology. He-she transcends "white, black. Southern, German,
Canadian, Baptist, Catholic" as limitations on faith seeking under-
standing. This believer-obeyer modifies thinking with gerundives —
verb-forms — of the order and importance of liberation — no adjec-
tival limit — it aims for the whole human race — and it is always
dative case — instrument or means.

That is to say again, Instrumental Theology stays in its place —
even its talk of God is dative case, which means we speak more
intimately of a kingdom of God than we speak presumptuously of
its King. In this connection I heard Paul Tillich pressed by an

eager hearer. In his last year then, the old man answered out of
a mood of reverie — as a young man, "Christian Socialist," he said,
he had known the phrase "Kingdom of God" as some sort of bucket
to catch the end of history — but then he came to this country and
understood what our nineteenth-century men meant by God's King-
dom— the big body straightened and he finished:

before zis Idol — mit fear and trembling,
I say 'Yah.'

And so, in proper dative case theology one does not violate the
"penumbra of mystery" with stupid pronunciamentos, and one
hears faith's inquiry pressing him-her toward faith's active voice,
which is the life of obedience to a light, a word we have heard from
behind us. As we go, with Calvin and Wesley and John Baillie
and a holy company, we may learn that only in obeying does one
"see" God. This life of theologizing-relating-obeying can only be
described as an ethic.

Ill

All of which means that a corollary fundament involves the
relational-believing / in a way of life that furnishes a Name. The
life-style of this /-in-relation is an Identification Ethic — and here
emerges the Christian Advantage: ours is a genuinely nameable and
recognizable identity.

Let me try to recapitulate a way of saying this heard most re-
cently from that grand full-orbed / that lives as William String-
fellow:

The / does not derive its identity from its images of itself as
male, or white, or ordained. The / does not think of itself in any
primary sense as being a gender, race, or religion. The / does not
know who it is from economic, political, class, or familial con-
nections— although, Stringfellow added, "I am all these." And,
tragically enough, almost every "other" loill identify the / by a
combination of these images, but such images are untrustworthy
markers. The / is both male and female, whiteness is suspect,
ordination is too peripheral, education is mostly ignorance, "south-
ern" or "Tennessean" is too local. Democrat is too slippery, pauper
is not identity, and twentieth century is too recent. The I is older,
pushed by eighty thousand generations. So, and from any Christian
and ethical point of view, neither sex, race, region, religion, class,
politics, economics, nor family identify my /; they do not contain
or even adequately describe the /. These buckets, these tags, these
tent-poles are culturally described, family determined, socially im-

posed. They shape the adult experience of the /, but as adjectival
modifiers only. The NOUN is Man; the pronoun is tne. In the
Gospel, the / by conversion to Jesus Christ and by growth in grace
is set over against all these as false images — partial, deceptive, frag-
mentary de-humanizers. Conversion to Jesus Christ puts me con-
trary to all such identity images. In the Gospel, the / is Biblical
person, and this means a change in Name recognizable through
the life-style of the Biblical /.

The trouble with any lesser base for ethic seems to lie in a
common tendency to read life as made up of discrete ordnungs or
orders: sex is male or female; life is secular or holy; family is legal
or bastardy; value is economic or spiritual; custom is revelatory or
heathen — when lived life is all these at once. The Christian ethic
of identification, incarnational ethic, that is, a life-style that is
"Christian," refuses all these orders as definitive or even adequately
descriptive if, as, or wherever the person is de-personated by them.
Neither sex, nor race, nor age, nor place of origin and servitude,
nor political connection, nor class, nor citizenship here, nor prop-
erty, nor religious affiliation defines the Christian /. Rather, the /
derives its identity, and that of its thoiis, from the highest it knows
of its species; the "best-of-breed" is source of identity.

(When a visitor asks me, "What is a quarter-horse?," I do not
show him just any old scrub-pony. I take him up to my high
pasture and whistle for Buck — he comes up dancing, ears forward,
head and tail up, age resting lightly on him, he is full brother to
a very famous stud, gelded by accident in his youth or I wouldn't
have him, but the blood and style and conformation — all there —
like his famous brother! He is the best of the breed I know.)

When one asks, "What is it to be truly human?," one speaks of
Jesus who is the Christ; this is our species, this is the identity of
the Christian /. My / as Christian is derived from my kinship to
that thou, Jesus the Christ. The / is defined by, takes its images
of itself from, finds its parameters as person in Jesus who is the
Christ. This is incarnational and identificational ethic — this is the
Christian secret of the /.

But there is more. The / so identified in Christ Jesus lives this
self-recognition, self-consciously, with any other / that is in on the
secret, and this ])uts us in Church and changes how we live with
each other in the life described by various orders of relation, aimed
always at the truly, fidly hmnan we have seen in Jesus. When lived
out, this means Church is like nothing else on earth, for it knows
who and whose it is.

But there is more. While this identity-in-common is our Chris-
tian secret (Barth), we also know this about all those others out
there, whether they know it or not, and this is the basic aim of
Christian life-style: to live with and for all those others so that
they find out who they are, too. And so, the ethic of identification
means at least a life lived in community with all the Jesus' in such
a way as to call out persons fit for a Kingdom that has come, comes,
and is coming. Lehmann's version, and that of many others, is that
this is what God Almighty is up to: to make and keep humanity
human.

In the life that is Christian and human, sent to call out persons
as ends for a Kingdom that is God's, the / has reason to need what
Jesus recognized: if the / is to be "harmless as a dove," / will need
the "wisdom of a serpent" to be effective, for the "this worldliness
of things in general" makes for pretty rough going.

A fundament of effective calling, then, will be to know the
means of a proper sedition, for much of our work-witness puts us
over against principalities and powers. Here, once again, the con-
fessed insights of Stringfellow help me say this is what the Christian
/ sees in Crucifixion: the triumph of the principalities wrapped in
our cultural images. They won out on Calvary. But there is always
more. In Resurrection we see the denial of Death's ultimate power;
and, at Pentecost, we are discovered by the power to stand over
against these de-humanizers, and here Christians — wise-as-serpents,
under orders to be properly seditious, in the service of all mankind
— lay hold on a viable method.

Of course the / knows sociology will not save us; it is neither
salvation nor even evangelism and witness. But it does disclose to
us the means of our proper sedition. Like any other science, soci-
ology represents a method. And here those vaunted "orders" come
into proper play. They furnish the Christian Community a place
to take hold. To wit:

In this culture to be an adult really means to have finished
one's ideological tepee. Inside, wrapped in his goods and warmed
by his gods, the adult never has to come outside the tepee he has
built. The tent of his identity is supported by certain tent-poles,
value systems, ideas of worth and propriety he takes from his region
and his family. These tent-poles, while of different substance, are
always the same in number and size in whatever culture. They
are comprised of the structures for living used to describe the life

of any commune, village, city, or family. Lecky used them in his
monumental description of late medieval Europe. Sumner makes
of them his outline for his study of folk-lore. They are the rubrics
used to describe a people by Tacitus and Caesar — and earlier by
the Greek historians. To know a people I must know their views
of sex, family, race, region, religion, law, class, and always eco-
nomics, economics.

The point? If Gospel is gospel, it will soon or late put every
one of these values under judgment and bless or damn each, on
the basis of what its faithful service does to persons.

For the Christian Community there is, we say, a broad sedition
to join. It is the revolt against ignorance, lethargy, our self-
complacent images, our myth-systems, the patriotism of all mere
regionalisms, and involves casting oft pious humbug. The work for
Gospel-in-society is the education of a now-present adult generation.
It does no good to say that the future of any church or people is
its youth. This is an evasive and short-sighted lie. The future
always has been the now-present adult generation. Here, in the
third, fourth, fifth decades, adults settle down with their prejudices
in a congenital conservatism that always corrodes our pipes lor
another long dry-spell unless interrupted. For adults are adults
when their ideological tepee is finished, outside of which ihey
aim never to go any more. They never come out, until or unless
some visiting fireman in Church mentions American oj^portunism,
or Angola, or Viet Nam, or Communism, or Cuba, or Chile and
the CIA, FBI, Watergate intransigencies. There is simply no hope
for the real personhood of these people unless some seditionist can
bring about a facing of the local myths — and this means the kind
of conflict that caused our Lord to counsel the wisdom of a serpent
for his followers.

The method? One has to face the myths — perhaps with belter
myths. For example, gospel will sooner or later face the myth about
property and the absurd notion that poverty is its opposite. (Prop-
erty and poverty are synonyms. The antonym for each is Com-
munity.) The myth about character we face, too, for most of us
think we have had it forever. (We are all refugees from either an
Eurasian or African cannibalism generally less than four hundred
years apart.) And we face daily the merging of the myths of prop-
erty and character, recorded on the same tape to give a libretto to
the good-life-we-deserve — in spite of the procession of "little boxes,
little boxes" we escort to grave side. And always we face the myth
of race, racial origins, native worth, and the local myths of patria,

one's native land and its regional superiorities. Add on the religious
myths, and the sex-difference myths, and the politico-economic
myths, and the big lie of all, the myth that I-do-not-have-to-die.
Then see and say that there is no way to human inaturity except
directly through these fabrications designed to protect the self-soul
from the realities of suffering and evil against which we are called
to revolt, too, lest they smother us and we die.

There is no way to work that does not put us preaching, teach-
ing, living and being in ways that interrupt the myths. This is the
method, and it justifies the work of every sociologist and philoso-
pher of culture who has tried to show us. We have to face our
fantasies; this is curriculum. This is agenda. And its use is the
method a new human-hood uses to come to grips with situations
the ignoring of which is sub-human death.

I suppose I have listened to a hundred and fifty clergy refugee
their way out of the Christian ministry in general and the South
or some denomination in particular. I think not may of them
"fixed" anything by their departure, although some have raised
our general average by leaving. Yet, and somewhat sadly, I do not
recall among them any whom I felt to know this last fundament
of dialogical ministry: by and large, if not exactly one and all, they
did not know the words of Consolation. I think no dialogical
being-in-the-world is possible apart from knowing some of the words
of Consolation. I take the name from Martin Luther's Consola-
toriae, otherwise called Fourteen on Consolation, composed for
Frederick at a time of his near-dying. And what might these con-
solations be? They vary and they change some, but mostly they
remain the same. However used, apart from some axioms of a
proper speaking, the consolations cannot console.

No "teller" may give a word of consolation he has not yet
"heard," although indeed the word he has heard may speak to a
situation he does not yet know.

Nor is there any consolation in a word I have heard and utter
to another unless the other receives it. (Perhaps this is why in Luke
10 our Lord is reported to have instructed his sent-out ones to take
back the blessing not received— the implication being that the
blesser-self may need the word himself before the journey is over.)

And, once again, there is no consolation to be had from any
word of any "teller" who cannot bless his own origins. The Con-

solatoriae come always from one whose cellar voices are no longer
shrilling in his ear. And then, even when spoken in competency,
the speaker's eye is on the specific hearer — there is no general word
— it is always infinitely personal, spoken to a thou one knows. Even
when the word comes from the self speaking to the self over against
another he has heard, the self must receive the self's word, or there
is no consoling. This is the inconsolability of Wander-Hope in
De Vries' Blood of the Lamb, for even hunkered down before that
Cross and hearing the fantasied repetition of the "suffer the little
children . . .," Wander-Hope could not hear it and still wanders.

Most restrictive over the valid word of consolation is, I think,
the awareness that the speaker of the word is always caught in the
contradiction, too. This insight lies under Nouwen's gorgeous title,
The Wounded Healer; it is under the line Stuart Henry gave me
from a contemporary play — "in the army of the Lord all are
wounded" — it is in Kierkegaard's notion of "Thoughts Which
Wound from Behind;" it is in Berdyaev's claim that every time a
good man suffers he releases redemption to the need surrounding
because he suffers unto life, not death. C. G. Jung is recalling
material from his own activities about 1904-1909 when he uses the
folk-saying, "only the wounded physician heals." "The doctor is
effective only when he himself is affected." (Memories, Dreams,
Reflections.) But earlier still, and most poignantly, is this not the
meaning of that word to a crossed thief — ho die mecuin eris — this
very day shalt thou be with me — spoken from the Lord's own
Calvary?

All of which is to say this: the Consoler must know soon or
late how to distinguish between healing and grace. The word is
invalid until we know that "curing" and "caring" are not the same
at all. Flannery O'Conner was already under burden of that dread
Lupas for which there is no curing when she spoke her word: Grace
is always present, hut grace and healing are two different tilings.
When one knows this, the sufferer can hear Grace even in the
grotesque of an actual situation because the grotesque itself is
known to be so only over against some certitude of what it woidd
be to be well. So, and finally, the word of Consolation may rest on
certitudio; it cannot rest on certainty, or it would already have
passed the bounds of faith and faith never "knows" — it just bets
its life. This means that the dialogically competent veteran of the
Way does not have to lie when he speaks the word of grace.

These, then, as I have sought them, are the fundaments of a
contemporary ministry that is dialogical. Or, to use another figure.

these make up the stafT for any Christian household. In the measure
these are aicjuirecl they explain why there is nothing on earth quite
like beino truly pastor, il indeed one ever is. There is a shadow-
side at Avhich I am working; there is the interpretation of a7i instru-
mental thcolooy to make sense of my queries; there is an ethic of
identification wherein my life-style in community reveals my name
and nature; there is a sociology of sedition that subverts princi-
palities and jjowers; and there is that religious dimension in mords
of consolation that say to the other, because the word is already
heard by me, that "our highest values are really values, that they
do count in the Avhole pattern of things, that the things for which
we have worked are not shallo\\- dreams, that the meaning of the
universe includes us." What oin- hearts long for is ans\vered h\
someone, and grace exceeds our poor projections of it, with love,
in a sphere Avherein which I have to do with God, and God has to
do with us.

The editor of a psychology journal has recently j^ressed me foi
comment on a paper purporting to equate gestalt tlicrapy and the
sacraments of Baptism and the Lord's Supper. Although I have
stood hat in hand for over thirty years asking psychology to correct
my notions of man, I still could not make this equation. Psychology
— even that of my own shadow-side — is still a downstairs maid in
the human household. True, the kitchen, pantry, laundry, plumb-
ing, heat, and fuse boxes are all downstairs, as are most exj^losions!
Theology, no longer queen, or even mistress in the human house,
is an upstairs maid who works for order and meaning, and Ethus
is her bound-partner whose taste and style give the place its char-
acter. Sociology is outside gardener and can keep the place from
the sewers' attrition, while true Religion is chief steward ^vho bruigs
grace and communion at table, but all these are in the senice of
the house-keeper, Man, who is agent for the sometimes absentee
owner, God-Almighty, who also sometimes, indeed, still comes to
table at a Supper.

Together, their service faithfully establishes a competent kecj^jcr
in the Christian house, and together, I think, they provide the
fundaments of being-in-the-world as a person-in-relation that seuji-
nary is set to encourage.

Ten Tests for Preaching

by John Bergland
Associate Professor of Homileties

A stimulating paper discussing the place of preaching in the
Judaic-Christian tradition had been read. The hearer's thoughts
were focused on the staggering concepts and lofty reaches of that
paper. It spoke of the enduring power and mystery of preaching
that is "language of the boundaries." It recalled old and new
descriptions of preaching: preaching that is "Truth through per-
sonality," preaching that "brings to expression the Word of God
in real life situations," preaching that is "Word-event," an actual
happening in the God-man encounter.

Then a grand old man, who had lived long and well and whose
sabbath faithfulness had resulted in a breadth of experience with
the "Word, preached and heard," spoke deliberately his question-
ing response. "Yes, Yes, Yes. All that you say seems very good and
perhaps true. Yet I have been a scientist all my life; therefore my
question is, 'How do you measure it?' "

His question needs to be addressed. Preaching continues to
hold its central place in the life of the church at worship. Preach-
ing is still worthy of a seriousness of purpose on the part of all
ministers. Therefore we must ask, "How do you test it?" What
criteria may be used to evaluate preaching? What standards will
help us to appraise authentic preaching?

Preaching, to be sure, is continually evaluated. You will hear
said, "That was a good sermon;" or "Our minister is a good pastor
but a poor preacher;" or "That was a good word." By what stan-
dards are these evaluations made?

Unfortunately, some of the reasons for saying preaching is good
or bad are themselves not very good. For example, the question
recently raised, "Who are the five best preachers in America today?"
was immediately answered by the questioner himself, who listed
the five most popular and best known preachers. That a preacher
attracts great crowds is not itself a worthy standard for testing
"faithfully good" preaching. "Beware when all speak well of you."

Again, you will hear preaching that is articulate, witty, and
entertaining described as good preaching. While it is essential that

preaching be interesting if it is to gain a point of contact with the
hearer, sermons that are only entertaining are unworthy of the
mark, "true preaching."

Some sermons (at least a few) reflect literary excellence. They
are creative, imaginative, and fresh in both content and form. Such
sermons skillfully designed for the hearing ear may be delivered
with rhetorical mastery and yet fail to be true preaching. Clarity
in construction and beauty in delivery will indeed serve to improve
almost all of our preaching, but that in itself does not provide a
basic test for "true preaching."

Authentic preaching will be responsible to its place in the total
Christian community. It belongs not only to the preacher, but
also to the congregation. It will reflect the memory and expec-
tation of the people of God in times past and in times present. It
will be rooted in the Word and standing in the world. True preach-
ing will step onto the bridge between the mundane and the majes-
tic, between mud and stars, and, recognizing the awesome mystery
of the preached Word, will dare to speak for God.

The quality of mystery referred to by Jesus regarding new birth
also applies to preaching: "The wind blows where it will, and you
hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes or
wither it goes; so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit"
(John 3:8). Because the vital center of preaching, that interaction
between Word and congregation, is fraught with mystery, it cannot
be wholly captured and defined by any measurement. Therefore,
we will do well to recognize the limitations of our tests. Yet, to
help clarify the intention of preachers who come seriously to the
task of preaching the Word, may we set some targets and suggest
these ten tests for preaching.

1. Is the sermon faithful to the Biblical loitness?

Some sermons that begin with a lesson, employ Biblical lan-
guage, and quote verses fail to recognize God in the Old Testa-
ment and God in Christ in the Ne^v Testament as the chief actor.
Or they employ the Biblical words and neglect the meanings. Such
sermons are not faithfully Biblical. Again, there are sermons with-
out any Biblical text, that use little Biblical language, and yet
remain centered uj^on the memories and expectations of the people
of God which are central to the \viiness of scriptures. They, even
though neglecting the Bible as common language of the church,
may be Biblically faithful.

2. Has the scripture passage been alloived to speak its own message?

Because of the limitations of time and circumstances related to
preaching, not every facet of a text and not evei^ possible inter-
pretation may be addressed. A preacher is necessarily selective. It
is essential, therefore, that the first step in preparing a sermon
involves listening to the text. Let it speak its own witness to the
issue it chooses to address. Do not assume that you have clearer
understanding of life and truth. Resist imposing your ideas upon
the text. It is not your responsibility as a preacher to defend the
text or to make it relevant. Let it speak! Listen! Respond! Be
on guard that your selective response does not finally duck the
central thrust of the text.

3. Does the sermon address some ultimate and urgent need in real
life?

True preaching will not be offered only to satisfy the need for
a sermon or simply to retell old truths. It will address some con-
temporary issue and need. This need may be part of the fabric of
the human situation in all generations. Such an issue should be
critically important and real. Ask of the sermon: "What concern
or problem is addressed?" "Is it ultimately important?" "Can it
be expressed in concrete realism?" Preaching that is authentic will
not seem "long ago and far away," but will wrestle with vital issues
relevant to the first century and to the twentieth century.

4. 75 the sermon thoughtful and informed?

Irrational and intellectually dishonest preaching is not true
preaching. We dare not avoid the tests of reason. Many sermons
ignoring the discipline of an intellectual pursuit and questioning
of facts offer sweeping generalities that claim too much. No
preacher will know everything that savants know about any given
subject, but the preacher's thought will be clearly reasonable and
sernion information will be correct. The counsel at this point is:
be accurate, but not pedantic; be rational, yet not only rational.

5. Does the sermon encourage the spontaneous flight of mood and
feeling?

In every important conversation and encounter there is feeling.
True preaching will not flee from emotion, but will recognize this
heat and power that may weld the Word into our very persons.
While true religious experience does not depend upon how one

"feels" about it, there is yet inherent in it both joy and tears.
True preaching is not only emotional, but it does give attention
to the counsel of the Apostle Paul: "Weep with those who weep.
Rejoice with those who rejoice." Ask of the sermon, "Is it emo-
tional?" Hopefully, it will be. Then ask again, "Is it only emo-
tional?"

6. Does the preacher offer anything of himself or herself? Is the
preacher present?

All of us have had the experience of hearing someone talk, but
knowing all the time that the speaker is not really involved in what
is spoken. This may be with good reason. To be authentically
present in commimication is to offer your own witness, and witness
involves risk. True preaching dares to say what the preacher has
seen and heard and felt and known. Such witness involves risk.
It is safer, but poorer, to offer preaching that only reports the
hearsay and common talk of others. True preaching will be con-
fession or arrogance or both.

7. Does the sermon faithfully present both judgment and grace?

Preaching often tends to be almost wholly negative and judg-
mental. It begins with a description of the ills of society and
proceeds to catalogue the sins of the people. This scolding, carping
criticism of the world and all that is in it (including the church)
has little to do with authentic good news. When sermons only
moralize, only criticize, only sound the "ain't it awful" complaints
of a preacher, only suggest what "ought to be" and "ought not to
be," there will be no authentic saving word.

Moreover, when a willy-nilly disregard for all value and moral
claim allows the preacher to offer easily and cheaply the gift of
grace, true preaching will be denied. Test the message. Does it
offer both the claim and the promise? Both judgment and mercy?

8. Is the preaching forthright, candid and hold?

There is an authority and confidence in true preaching that
does not have us saying "perhaps," "maybe," "it seems," etc. There
is no uncertain sound about true preaching. The preaching of ihe
gospel is a proclamation with clarity and candor. Of course, we
all want to be right before we state our position. (We are never
absolutely right.) Therefore, we take coimsel before we sj^eak. Let
us take counsel chiefly with our I)eliefs, slowly with our doubts,
and let timidity be replaced by boldness. Carlyle Marney counsels

preachers, "You're not asked to be right, you're asked to be forth-
right."

9. Is the preached xoord caring, responsive and faithfully dialogical?

The first responsibility of a preacher is to listen: to Hsten to
the witness of Scripture and tradition, and to listen to what is being
said and shouted and moaned and cried and sighed and jeered in
all the experiences of the men and women one is called to serve.
After listening, the preacher may dare to speak, but faces the re-
quirement that the preaching be dialogical. This is not to suggest
a little talk back after the sermons. It means being part of a lived-
out conversation. The preacher does not simply hand out answers
and make pronouncements from "out there" or "up there," but,
knowing that God is in our midst, strives for the meeting of mean-
ing between Word and world. True preaching does not swing the
authoritative club to bring the congregation into submission. The
prophetic word, when spoken, is ottered through te:\Ys and \vith a
caring that is for "you," to "you," and received by "you." Yes,
bold preaching may be dialogical.

10. Is the sermon for all the people?

Many sermons are so parochial and near-sighted that they fail
to have the breadth of witness that addresses every man and every
woman. They speak only to the interests and needs of the local
and immediate situation. Preaching that tends to be a private
affair is not authentic preaching. Recognizing that "God so loved
the world" and that the great commission is to "go into all the
world," let true preaching find its point of contact in a local and
concrete situation and yet remain fully conscious of God's children
everywhere.

Let it be noted in conclusion that the three tests that have been
noted most frequently by lay persons who list their criteria for
evaluating preaching are: (1) Does the preacher offer anything of
himself or herself? (This usually is expressed, "Is the preacher
sincere? Does the preacher really believe what is being said?")
(2) "Is it faithful to the Scriptures?" (3) Is it related to some real
life need or concern? These three criteria are not new (nor are
the others), but they do have continuing merit in setting the stan-
dards for true preaching.

In the 'On Deck Circle'

by Paul Mickey

Assistant Professor of Pastoral Theology

Pulpit baseball — is that what preaching has come to these days?
No, not in my judgment. I use this image to help explore the
theological dynamics of the pastor's sermon preparation by lifting
up two factors associated with preaching but sometimes forgotten.
First is the presumptuous but necessary assumption that preach-
ing— and no more or less than pastoring — requires lots of ego. One
has to have ego, a sense of self-identity and strength, a kind of
latent cockiness that as the preacher one can go up against the
Word of God on some kind of "playing field" created by people
and the Scriptures and not always strike out. Sometimes a home
run is belted; other times a base on balls is the best hope; at times
a scratch single, a bunt, a passed ball can all be welcomed. Under-
lying the actual activity of going to the "plate" to bat as preacher
is the self-confidence that the pastor belongs in this league — and
I hope it is the big leagues!

A second factor is the lectionary. This is represented by the
pitcher. Waiting for Sunday and inspiration in the "on deck
circle," the preacher knows inevitably that Siindoy will come, that
he or she as preacher will be facing directly the Biblical text. Ac-
companying the sense of inevitability of taking a turn at bat on
Sunday is the competitive force of the good preacher who enjoys
matching wits >vith the lectionary! From previous experience one
can predict the basic pattern, style, and approach of certain pitch-
ers (specific liturgical seasons), even as the sense of the awaited and
unexpected greet every preacher each time at bat. Sermon prepa-
ration is the fallow time of ferment, the season of inevitable and
joyful anticipation in the "on deck circle."

I. Pathos

The preacher begins in the pathos of his or her own personal,
parish, cultural, and social experience. The extent to which the
preacher's immediate experience (personal, parish, social, institu-
tional) is circumscribed in the moment of readiness and antici-
pation is directly related to one's ego strength. If preparing for

the sermon is a time of fear, anxiety, drudgery, avoidance, plagi-
arizing, copying, it becomes an emotional "down" and a waste of
time leading to a disintegiating ego in the "on deck circle." How
calm and confident is the preacher despite taped toes, broken
fingers, protruding pregnancy, or high humidity?

II. Ethos

Sermon preparation is a time of joyful relaxation in the world
and in the Word. It is the process of getting it together again, to
be affirmed in the faith, to be confronted in the parish, to be
persuasive in the ethos of the culture. Like the menstrual cycle,
the seven-day cycle of preaching is a cosmic reminder of the unity
of the preacher and nature in God's providence. Some fear this
and some celebrate it.

The "opposition" or adversary in sermon preparation is not
initially the people or the parish. It is the Word of God, selectively
and classically preserved and presented to "deliver up" the most
difficult, obtuse, ridiculous Scriptural odd-ball pitches one could
imagine. What comes down the lectionary "shoot" toward the
preacher may be a fast ball, knuckler, curve, drop, spit, or bean
ball. Few texts end up doing what they appear to be at first; there
is breaking stuff, junk stuff, blinding speed stuff, and slow, change-
of-pace stuff. All of it is a part of the scandal of the gospel. Most
disarming and embarrassing are the tight-breaking pitches which
slam in upon our strength turned into weakness by the Scriptures,
tradition, and reason. Too late! One cannot step out or bribe
the umpire to call "foul" or "ball." We have to see it through.
The preacher has to swing and live with the consequences. The
preacher may do well or may, as the saying goes, "learn from that
experience."

The Biblical witness and history, indeed the history of the
various communions, have developed an informal and formal
lectionary for preaching. This lectionary is, in a profound sense,
not merely a big league pitcher tempting our ego to reach out; it
is the objective referent for preaching. That is, the givenness of
the lectionary text speaks from the ethos of the ages and present
circumstance. It prevents preaching from lapsing into a rampant
and destructive subjectivism. Without an organizing principle and
perspective for presenting texts we are left to the "devices and
desires of our own hearts." Any self-respecting batter likes to
square off and hit away at the easy stuff. Without a lectionary we

would deliver up to ourselves the sure bet; the lectionary helps
objectify God's Word — both presenting it in its total range of
Godly scandals and protecting us from a batting practice subjec-
tivity that the whole preaching exercise might be under our control.

A second objectifying function rests with the lectionary being
on "the mound." It becomes an objective reference for the ethos
of the present circumstances. It prevents us from responding im-
mediately, subjectively, and directly to what is most apparent in
the culture of one's parish or preaching situation. That is, the
lectionary prevents us from slipping to the pathos subjectivity of
our own ego — regardless of how strong; and we are prevented from
slipping into the ethos subjectivity of our cultural and parish prob-
lems. Without question, the noise from the stands, the afternoon
sun or glare of stadium lights, the teasing and cajoling of the bench
jockey or drunken fan or needling player on the field can distract
from proper preparation and draw the preacher into an over-
identification, often negative, with contextual matters before the
liturgical season even begins.

When confronted by a difficult situation in the church, com-
munity, or even in the pastor's life, the temptation is to allow what
is most immediate to become the total focus. Slavery to the lec-
tionary is a way of denying or driving away the reality of the
immediate situation and may draw the pastor prematurely toward
poor expository preaching wherein only Biblical themes and stories
receive attention and illumination. The other side of the threat
of immediacy is that of situational over-identification and a swift
slip into topical preaching. Whatever is most immediate and
apparent is allowed to overwhelm one's perspective, shoving its
way onto center stage, insidiously demanding all the attention.
Suddenly the claims of life have no depth or character. There is
but a scant thread of the immediate topic to relate all of life to
God's word. One celebrates the loss or lack of ego strength by
wallowing in immediacy. What is needed is perspective, character,
depth, and distance to aid in realistic solutions. It may be that,
when teammates and opponents alike expect one to bunt or swing
for the fence, a little strategy — utilizing the unexpected — would
be in order. Effective preaching strategy combines pathos, ethos,
and Logos. A theological perspective which understands and
utilizes pathos and ethos is necessary. One begins with one's ego
strength and personal wits (pathos) and moves to include accurate
and energetic perceptions of the cultural milieu, including the

traditional cultural wisdom of the church found in the lectionary
(ethos).

III. Logos

All this brings one to the act of stepping into the batter's box
to engage in the Word-event called preaching. Logos, the Word,
the Biblical witness, now enters the picture. The text for the day
begins to bear witness as it become incarnate in the witness of the
present (pathos and ethos). Without being incarnate, through the
preacher in the hurts and joys of the parishioners, the Biblical
narrative is no more than comparative story and ancient literature.
The Word of God is no magic "logos." It is Logos because it is
incarnate; for incarnation to occur, the intention and desire of
God to reveal his gracious love for us, and the context, the situ-
ation, must exist, plus the awareness of the setting which can receive
God's love. The text is not the Logos, the beginning point. There
are two points, God's intention and the human situation. The
pastor, ordained to preach the Word and administer the sacra-
ments, is acknowledged by the church and God's people everywhere
to have that authority and power to bring together the logos (wit-
ness) of the text and the logos (witness) of the setting. This bring-
ing together of the logos of situation and text in the sermon pre-
pares the people and the pastor for the Word-event that creates
Logos — the Word of God proclaimed, perceived, and lived. The
potential of the text and the situation becoming Logos is realized
in the act of preaching.

So the arrogance and humility of preaching. One could bow
too quickly before the text, allowing the canon to bully, intimidate,
and govern reason, experience, and the richness of the stories,
dreams, and surprises of the Scriptures. One could bow too quickly
before the most vivid, captivating, apocalyptic imagery floating
through the "medium" of the mass media of TV, newspapers,
gossip, magazines, and one's own fantasies. To preach requires ego,
but not to exploit, shame, or manipulate. Exploitation and shaming
are the sure signs of an insecure, immature, and rigid preacher.
The great need and opportunity laid upon today's preacher is to
reach the burden of the human heart of those people who are
immediate and present in the congregation. Words about banner
headlines of the twentieth century or the first century are not the
Logos. The Logos is God becoming incarnate in heavy hearts and
hopeful lives of persons sharing in the discerning and energetic
life of the preacher who, in Jesus Christ, is creating a Word-event.

Lectionary Preaching

Some Reflections on Method, Plus a Review of

PROCLAMATION: Aids for Interpreting the Lessons

of the Church Year.

by Lloyd Bailey
Associate Professor of Old Testament

There is no one completely satisfactory way of choosing the text
(or texts) which will (must?), in some fashion, inform or find
expression in a given sermon. The problem is no less acute for
so-called "situational" preaching than it is for the more traditional
"expository" type. In either case, the pitfalls which lie close at
hand include the possibility that (1) personal opinion about a con-
temporary "situation" will subsequently be "blessed with a text,"
i.e., the preacher will come to the text with a mind already made
up and thus can no longer be challenged by it; (2) the pastor may
talk only indirectly about the "gospel" in general, a "gospel" that
is sometimes amazingly similar to contemporary cultural values,
rather than deal with the concrete implications of a specific passage
from the Tradition; (3) sermons will be based upon a few favorite
(comfortable?) books or themes, rather than upon the total range
of material which our spiritual ancestors have found valuable and
handed down to us.

Let the preacher here pause and ask, "When was the last time
that I preached from the Old Testament?" Or even better: "When
was the last time that I preached from Leviticus?" Have I the
freedom, the right, to make premature and subjective judgments
about which scripture material is "relevant" or "unpreachable"?
Is not every story, every unit of material, available to us because,
amidst some crisis in the history of our community, it gave and
sustained identity as no other story could? And hence it was
treasured, repeated, and preserved for us, having been tried and
tested by our spiritual ancestors. Dare I, therefore, regard Leviticus
as irrelevant?! (Let those who think so read the commentary on
this book in The Interpreter's One Volume Comjnentary on the
Bible, or in Encyclopaedia Judaicn, or in The Interpreter's Dic-
tionary of the Bible Supplement [soon to appear], all written by
Jacob Milgrom.) And is it not possible that the passage which
disagrees with what I think is precisely the one which I most need

to hear? Is it the function of Scripture to support my preconceived
notions, or is it, in part, to challenge them? And if it is the latter,
how do I best insure encountering and dealing with such texts?

One attempt to avoid such pitfalls is to preach with the aid of
a lectionary (assigned readings [OT text, epistle, and gospel] for
the Sundays and festivals of the Church Year, usually arranged in
a three-year cycle). At least the following advantages may be listed.

a. The selected texts range over the vast majority of both Testa-
ments (e.g., the new COCU Lectionary omits only eight of the OT
books: Judges, Ruth, Ezra, Esther, Psalms, Obadiah, Nahum, and
Haggai).

b. The preacher is forced to begin with the text, to derive from
it the formative idea, rather than to search for a pretext from
Scripture after the sermon is well along.

c. Texts which may challenge the preacher and the congregation
can no longer be avoided. No longer is there the freedom to offer
a "selected" gospel.

d. One may concentrate upon the individual lections or upon
their interrelatedness, and thus stress both the diversity and the
unity of Scripture. (It is only relatively recently that the foraier
aspect has begun to be stressed and appreciated; see Brevard Childs,
Biblical Theory in Crisis, Part II.)

e. Disciplined obedience to the lections for the day may, upon
occasion, prevent the preacher from indulging in personal battles
with the congregation. Recent personal frustrations and defeats
can not thus become the occasion for browbeating the people next
Sunday with conveniently selected texts!

On the other hand, it must be stressed that the lectionary also
presents problems for the preacher and that it must not be used
uncritically. Among the problems are the following.

1. A given lection may not be in accordance with proper unit-
division (i.e., it may disregard the boundaries of the ancient thought-
unit). This is true in the majority of cases, and the following is a
random selection of illustrations (based upon the Proclamalion
series).

The proper unit Isaiah 11:1-9 is expanded to include vs. 10, in
order that it match Romans 15:4-13 where it is quoted (see A: Ad-
vent-Christmas, p. 7).

Hosea 5:15-6:2 interruj)ts the unit and gives a totally false
impression of what the prophet is saying (A: Lent, p. 10).

The omission of vss. 5-7 from the reading Hosea 11:1-4, 8-9
changes the import of the message from threat to forgiveness (A:
Pentecost 3, p. 36).

Vss. 4-9 (dealing with the future prosperity of Jerusalem) are
omitted from the reading Isaiah 61:1-3, 10-11. Since vs. 9b blesses
Judah (the Jews), it apparently was not fitting for inclusion with
the NT lections. The exegete fortunately calls attention to the
need to restore these verses (B: Advent-Christmas, p. 14).

The reading Zechariah 9:9-12 should properly continue through
vs. 17. As a consequence of the exclusion, the portrait of the
messiah as warrior is avoided, in support of the NT reading (Jesus'
entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday). Surely this exclusion
borders upon dishonesty and perversion of Scripture (B:Holy Week,
p.l).

By stopping with Isaiah 6:1-8, rather than continuing to the
end of the chapter, emphasis is shifted from the purpose of Isaiah's
call (unpleasant to hear then and now!) to his response. The
exegete calls attention to this improper omission (C: Epiphany,
p. 34).

Omissions in the reading Leviticus 19:1-2, 15-18 remove the
concrete social and economic guidelines in favor of a more general
emphasis upon love (see A: Pentecost 3, p. 24).

Luke 4:14-30 is broken into two lessons (between vss. 21 and 22),
creating a truncated initial reading whose purpose is to present
Jesus as the fulfillment of the OT prophet Isaiah. Rather, the
entire unit was meant to illustrate the use to which Jesus put the
OT reading, a use which Christians in the present might find
extremely uncomfortable (see James Sanders' sermon, "What Hap-
pened at Nazareth?" available on Thesis Casettes). To make mat-
ters worse, the homiletician in the Proclamation series, speaking of
the second reading, urges us to proclaim God's sovereignty, which
"shows us the reliability of our salvation" (C: Epiphany, pp. 20ft.).
On the contrary, one could argue that this text challenges those
who are most sure that they are chosen and secure!

2. The three lections for a given Sunday often have little or
nothing in common — or that which the readings suggest is in com-
mon is highly questionable. (For specific examples, see the review
section [below], no. 7.)

3. Since the lectionary is, by definition, related to the Church
Year, it is almost inevitable that the OT not be heard on its own
terms; rather, an external "promise" and "fulfillment" scheme will

be imposed upon it. This can be both a loss and a gain, and is
an area where the preacher should proceed with great caution, re-
flection, and humility. (See the review section, nos. 1-3, 7.)

4. The lectionary is, after all, limited in the range of texts which
it utilizes (see above, "a"), primarily because it moves in a three-
year cycle. Thus some of the most majestic, challenging, and
"preachable" OT texts are not used at all, presumably because they
do not conveniently support any of the chosen NT readings. On
the other hand, some of the OT texts actually chosen for "match-
ing" purposes are theologically rather insignificant, to say the most!

5. Since the preacher will often feel impelled to address some
sudden or pressing problem of the congregation, the assigned lec-
tions may often appear irrelevant. There will thus be a temptation,
if one is slavishly devoted to the lectionary, to force the text(s) to
apply in ways that they in fact do not. It would be preferable at
this point to abandon the lections for the day and return to them
at a later date.

The Proclamation series is projected for 26 volumes of 50-60
pages each, 21 of which have appeared to date. They are designed
to help the preacher interpret a three-year cycle of lessons for the
Sundays and festivals of the church year. The readings (OT,
epistle, and gospel) for each occasion includes those found in the
following lectionaries: Lutheran, Roman Catholic, Episcopal, Pres-
byterian/UCC/Christian, and Methodist/COCU. When one or
more of these differ, as is often the case, that of the Lutheran
Church has been chosen for full discussion (and a few of the authors
will include brief sections concerning the others).

Each lesson is presented under two headings: (1) "Exegesis" of
each of the three texts, and (2) "Homiletical Interpretation," usually
an integrated discussion of all the texts, but occasionally and pre-
ferably there are separate reflections on each of them.

The contributors are pastors and teachers, with exegesis and
interpretation assigned to different persons not of the same tradi-
tion. This is occasionally a limitation, since the interpretation
does not always follow from the exegesis (and in a rare case a
problematic exegesis was wisely ignored by the homiletician). How-
ever, it would have been difficult to find a number of persons com-
petent to do both tasks (although that is precisely what the preacher
must do on each occasion!). The exegetes, in general, have done

well (but for some limitations, see below). The homiletical results
are more mixed, but it must be confessed that this is the more
difficult part of the project and one for which there is no commonly
agreed upon methodology. Among the better volumes are: Series
A: Easter, Holy Week; Series B: Easter, Advent-Christmas.

The material has been written with admirable clarity, and it
will be intelligible to most pastors whether they are seminarians
or not. Typographical errors are few, including, I presume, the
following gem from Series C: Pentecost 2, p. 21, "Blessed are the
piece makers."

While the study of this series will, for many pastors, improve
the quality of their preaching, there are nonetheless serious limi-
tations. Lamentably, a reliable aid in this crucial area is yet to
appear.

1. Perhaps the most conspicuous failure of the homileticians
(and of the editors of the project) is the absence, anywhere in the
series, of a systematic disnission of the problejns involved in mov-
ing from exegesis to interpretation (from what the text meant then
to what it may mean now). Nowhere is there even a brief list of
the assumptions which an author makes in effecting this transition.
(Those who desire some assistance in this regard might consult
L. Toombs, "The Problematic of Preaching from the Old Testa-
ment," Interpretation, XXIII, 1969, pp. 302-314; and D. Hester,
"Conversing with the Text: Assumptions and Problems in Inter-
pretation," Duke Divinity School Review, Winter, 1975, pp. 34-50.)

Of course, some of an author's assumptions (hermeneutic rules)
may be gathered indirectly from the discussion of a given text.
Perhaps the most persistent assumption, throughout the entire
series, is that the OT reading contains a "promise" which the NT
reading "fulfills." (For a negative evaluation of this traditional
approach, see Duke Divinity School Revieiv, Spring, 1975, pp. 141-
144.) This may have the effect of preventing the OT from being
heard on its own terms.

This is most evident in Series C: Epiphany, p. 4, discussing
Isaiah 60:1-6. The text presents the faith of the post-exilic com-
munity that, recent delays and historical reverses to the contrary,
God will yet keep his promise and Israel will be a blessing to others:
"Nations shall come to your light." To treat the text with integrity
(i.e., to listen to it) would be (1) to be amazed at Israel's persistent
faith; (2) to note other instances, forming a pattern of such faith;
(3) to remind the congregation of its heritage ("This is our story.");

(4) to encourage the congregation to continue or rekindle such
faith amidst the problems of the present. But the homiletician
sweeps all of this aside as irrelevant: "This passage can be related
to the Christian congregation only in terms of its NT fulfillment.
Otherwise it remains a concrete promise made only to historical
Jerusalem in the distant past." Several responses may be made to
this refusal to listen to the material which the believing community
calls "Scripture": (1) There was no NT fulfillment of it. (2) It
raises a perspective that is self-defeating: many "promises" in the
NT were also made to historical situations that are, to us, the
distant past, and thus they presumably also are equally invalid for
the contemporary Church! (3) That the passage can be related to
the Christian congregation apart from an alleged NT fulfillment
is demonstrated above.

The same homiletician (Elizabeth Achtemeier) deals with Isaiah
42:1-7 [ibid., p. 10), which proposes that Israel in exile may yet
be Yahweh's servant who will establish God's justice in the world.
Instead of reminding the Church that she is a continuation of
ancient Israel whose faith and goals are her own (as well as those
of the Synagogue), the homilitician begins with the assertion that
"the gospel writers understand that Jesus finally fulfills Deutero-
Isaiah's promise of the servant." If this is the only Word (or non-
word) that the OT can have for the Church, then perhaps Marcion
has triumphed after all. Is it necessary to destroy the OT in order
to make it appear relevant?

2. Related to the previous criticism is a series of unnecessary
(if not unfounded) criticisms of the OT and of Judaism. E.g., B:
Lent, p. 31, describes the OT as the story of the people's failure
to keep their covenant. It is just possible, on the contrary, that
the material was preserved as the story of God's graciousness, a
graciousness extended as much to an undeserving Church as to an
undeserving ancient Israel.

Ibid., pp. 46f., remarks: "People . . . came to see the law as
something over against them." But one may ask: Who are these
"people"? Statistically, what percentage of the Jewish people did
so? What is the source of information for this statement? Surely
not the vast corpus of rabbinic literature, which rejoices in the
"law" and in obedience to it! Is St. Paul to become the paradigm
for all of Judaism? Surely it is time that such uninformed gen-
eralizations cease. It is not even proper to refer to the OT, or any
part thereof, as "law" (on which see the article "Torah" to appear

in The Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible Supplementary Vol-
ume).

B:Epiphany, p. 50, characterizes Judaism as "legalism," but that
is a basic misunderstanding (see the remarks in the previous para-
graph).

Ibid., p. 55, speaks of those, presumably Jews, "whose hearts are
veiled with the old law," a remark based upon Paul's complete
perversion of the text in Exodus 34.

C: Pentecost 2, p. 43, goes out of its way to mention that "some
early Jewish texts even speak of God's joy over the death of the
godless," a joy not unknown to Christians as the book of Reve-
lation reveals.

In contrast to this attitude, widely attested in the series, I must
mention the informed and sensitive remarks in A: Holy Week, by
Krister Stendahl.

3. Even the exegetes, rather than explaining the meaning of the
OT text, will sometimes begin by contrasting the text with the
teaching of the NT. By any standard, this is a complete perversion
of the term "exegesis," since such comparisons do not "bring out"
the meaning of the OT text for its own time! E.g.,

C:Easter, pp. Iff., deals with Exod. 15:1-11 (an expression of
joy because of God's deliverance of his people from an oppressive
political system, the consequence of His pledge to be with His
people [chap. 3]). All of this is largely ignored by the exegete, who
quotes from Corinthians about the similarity of this event to Chris-
tian baptism.

A:Pentecost 3, p. 25, discusses Lev. 19:1-2, 15-18, which pro-
poses an innovative imitation of God's holiness, an imitation to
be expressed through concrete acts from which the resident foreigner
is not exempt. Yet the exegete cannot desist from negative com-
parison with Christianity.

4. Little or no attention is paid to crucial historical background.

E.g.,

C:Pentecost 2, pp. 46f., discusses Amos 8:4-7. What has mformed
Amos' prophetic conscience? What is his relationship to those who
make explicit mention of the covenant at Sinai? Has he been influ-
enced by Wisdom materials?

C:Epiphany, pp. 34f., discusses Isaiah 6:1-8, which contains the
imagery of Yahweh as king. Would it not be relevant to hear about
the death of Uzziah, the recent dynastic change in Israel just to the
north, and the new and threatening monarch in Assyria, all of

which is in contrast to the king par-excellence who continues to
rule the world and is the source of Isaiah's call?

CrLent, pp. 20ff., discusses Jeremiah 26:8-15, where the prophet
is on trial for his life. Can the mentality of his accusers be appreci-
ated or even understood apart from knowledge of the Davidic
Covenant, about which the exegete tells us nothing?

5. The larger context of one of the readings may be ignored by
the exegete. E.g.,

ArAdvent-Christmas, pp. 7ff., dealing with Isaiah 11:1-10, makes
no mention of the material which immediately precedes, i. e., of
10:28-34, which deals with the approach of Sennacherib in 701 B.C.
The arrangement of the material suggests that the "shoot from the
stump of Jesse" is a figure in the immediate future, if not a prince
then living, who will restore the judged and repentent community.
Only after a tree has been cut down can a sprout come up from its
roots! This would change the entire shape of how the material
can be used in connection with the NT or the liturgical year. And
yet, says the exegete, "The question . . . (of) the date and author-
ship . , . has no relation to the interpretation."

A:Lent, pp. 20f., where Genesis 12:1-8 is not set against the
background of chapters 1-11, a serious omission, as all readers of
G. von Rad's Genesis will understand.

6. The authors make factual statements ivhich may he ques-
tioned or are in error:

AiAdvent-Christmas, p. 25: Does parthenos mean "virgin" in the
Septuagint at Isaiah 7:14? Or has a later meaning been read back
into the Septuagint? (See the article "Virgin" to appear in The
Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible Supplement.)

B:Advent-Christmas, p. 8: "There were no words for 'return'
or 'coming again' " in Jesus' mother tongue. On the contrary, I
would presume that language to be Aramaic, and that the verb
tub would suffice very nicely.

B:Lent, p. 21: "Jewish" is used anachronistically.

B:Lent, p. 42: Jeremiah declares the covenant "null and void."

B:Easter, p. 9: Daniel proposes a "general" resurrection.

B:Epiphany, p. 1: The author confuses an emendation of Isaiah
60:4b with the present Masoretic text.

B:Holy Week, p. 1: Riding a donkey is not a sign of himiility,
contrary to the author's statement! It was, throughout the Ancient
Near East, a declaration of nobility or royalty.

C:Pentecost 2, p. 43: Salvation as a present reality is said to have
been "invented by Jesus."

C:Pentecost 3, p. 31: "Salvation, read in Hebrew (sic!), means
saving your skin . . . Read in Greek it translates, 'receiving the life
of your savior-god.' " While it is possibly true in some j>assages in
the NT that "salvation" has this contextual implication, there is
no basis for implying (as the author has done) that this is an
etymological meaning. Furthermore, this self-serving slander of the
OT and of Judaism is without foundation.

C: Easter, p. 5: Is it true that the NT teaches "immortality" as
opposed to resurrection?

C:Pentecost 3, p. 51: Does the name of Isaiah's son (Shear-
yashubh) mean "A remnant shall return"? Since the verb shiib
more usually means "to repent," and in view of the prophetic idea
of divine discipline, is not "(Only) a remnant can repent" a more
likely possibility?

A: Lent, pp. 20f.: Can one, without comment, accept the trans-
lation "be blessed" (vs. "pray to be blessed") in Genesis 12:3? Here,
it seems to me, the crucial problem of exegesis has been ignored
(or unperceived, since the exegete is a NT scholar).

Related questionable statements include: "The biblical word
which it is our duty to preach is one whose meaning has been
revealed to us by the Spirit residing in the church, not the one
that we reconstruct through historical research" (A: Pentecost 3,
p. 7). This, it seems to me, sweeps aside the entire exegetical pro-
cedure upon which the Proclamation series depends.

The authors sometimes indulge in trivial word-plays: "Deceit
at work makes a prey of you. Deity at work to make a pray-er of
you" [sic!] (C:Pentecost 2, p. 4); "God says 'Gesundheit' . . . Man
says 'Apartheid' " {ibid., p. 20); "The Christian lives as . . . corn
among thorns" {ibid., p. 50).

Somewhat rare is the kind of needless polemic represented by
the remark, "woolly-headed liberals" (C: Pentecost 3, p. 25).

7. While the authors properly are sensitive to the possible inter-
relationship between OT text, epistle, and gospel which the lec-
tionary assumes, some of them go too far in trying to establish a
connection. The search for a common denominator which will link
ineptly matched readings means that the central thrust of one or
more of them must be ignored. This is a sad state of affairs, more
the fault of the traditional lectionaries than of the authors them-
selves, since it deprives the Church of that central Word which

the text intends and substitutes for it words based upon incidentals
in the text. E.g.,

A:Advent-Christmas, pp. llf.: the author becomes so desperate
for a uniting theme that he abandons the Masoretic text of Isaiah
11:2 and turns to the Septuagint, through which a strained con-
nection is possible!

B:Lent, p. 32: The OT lesson (Exod. 20:1-17) contains the ten
commandments, those concrete responses which the believing com-
munity agreed to make because of gratitude for what God had
already done (the deliverance from Egypt). The NT lesson (John
2:13-22) concerns the cleansing of the temple, which the exegete
sees as a messianic claim and a renunciation of the temple cult.
Obviously, these two texts have little in common, but the ingenuity
of the homiletician is equal to the task: "(Jesus') coming has nieani
the replacement of the temple cult which represented the old cove-
nant" (i.e., Exod. 20; emphasis mine). "So interpreted, we can see
the three readings for the day blending together." Apparently, it
has been necessary to denounce the OT reading in order to defend
the lectionaryl

The entirety of C:Pentecost 2 may be criticized at this point.
Little attention is paid to the central thrust of any of the indi-
vidual texts. Rather, a possible minor itlea common to each be-
comes the center of the homiletical discussion. E.g., Cienesis 18
deals with the problem of divine justice; Colossians 2 presents a
Christological thesis; and Luke 1 1 contains \'arious observations
about prayer. "A theme for the day," according to the homiletician,
is "prayer is possible." In actuality, this is not the main point of
any of the readings, and a sermon based upon this "theme" would
not have its origin in the intent of the biblical texts but in the
ingenuity of the preacher! And this is an ingenuity which honors
the lectionary above the Scriptures.

Sometimes the search for elements in common leads to the
suggestion that multiple sermons would be possible. The problem
here is that one is abandoning the search for the central idea of
each text or the central idea they have in common. E.g.,

A: Advent-Christmas, pp. Iff., deals with Isaiah 2:1-5 (the hope
for a time of universal peace), Romans 13:11-14 (the impending
parousia), and Matthew 24:37 Ai (the need for vigilance). The
epistle and gospel are rather well matched, but the OT text is only
marginally related. In any case, the following sermon topics are
proposed: on the price of peace; "on time" as the Bible speaks of
it; and on the "meaning of wakefulness and watchfulness."

C: Pentecost 1, pp. 23ff., proposes three sermons from the OT
reading alone (I Kings 17:17-24): on Elijah's "life and work;" on
"the relationship between affliction and sin;" and on the role of a
prophet. It is difficult to see the second of these as a concern of
the text, although the connection is made in it.

It is only in relatively few cases that an author will stress that
each text for the day has an integrity of its own and could be used
as a basis for sermons (e.g., A:Epiphany, p. 38; C:Pentecost 1, p. 39;
C:Lent, pp. 15, 34).

A few authors face the issue squarely and confess that the lec-

tionary has erred:

C:Pentecost 1, p. 39: "The preacher seeking an immediately
apparent unifying theme in these pericopes may be disappointed."

C:Epiphany, p. 19: "There is almost no way in which they can
all legitimately be joined."

C:Lent, p. 25: "The relationship of the Second Lesson ... as
is so often the case, is not immediate ..."

A:Pentecost 3, p. 20: "It is very difficult if not impossible to
draw together this Sunday's three readings . . ."

A:Pentecost 2, p. 16: "The Romans pericope seems not to have
any affinity with the others at all."

Among the more reliable and helpful issues in the series are:
A:Easter (by John Snow and Victor Furnish); A:Holy Week (by
Krister Stendahl); B:Advent-Christmas (by Thor Hall and James
Price); and B:Easter (by Charles Rice and Louis Martyn).

Ordination and the Theology
of the Cross

(I Corinthians 1:18-31)

by David C. Steinmetz
Associate Professor of Church History and Doctrine

The Jews expected a Messiah. Jesus Christ was a stumbling-
block because, though he was expected, he proved to be not the
kind of Messiah who was expected. The Jews took history seriously.
They faced up squarely to the problem of history. And the prob-
lem of history is this: Why is the good so often impotent in the
struggle against the evil forces in the world? They believed, how-
ever, that God was sovereign over history. And so they demanded
signs. That is to say, they demanded a decisive and miraculous
demonstration of the power of God in history over the forces of
evil. They demanded a vindication of the righteous — among whom,
of course, they numbered themselves.

This attitude of the ancient Jews is reflected in the Psalms.
C. S. Lewis characterized the attitude of the writers of the Psalms
in this way: "The ancient Jews, like ourselves, think of God's
judgment in terms of an earthly court of justice. The difference
is that the Christian pictures the case to be tried as a criminal
case with himself in the dock; the Jew pictures it as a civil case
with himself as the plaintiff. The one hopes for acquittal, or rather
for pardon; the other hopes for a resounding triumph with heavy
damages. Hence he prays 'judge my quarrel,' or 'avenge my cause.'
. . . The 'just' judge, then, is primarily he who rights a wrong in
a civil case. He would, no doubt, also try a criminal case justly,
but that is hardly ever what the Psalmists are thinking of. Chris-
tians cry to God for mercy instead of justice; they cried to God for
justice instead of injustice."

This was why the message of the cross was a stumbling-block
to the Jews. They wanted a demonstration of the power of God.
But the cross showed the weakness of God in the world. They

A sermon preached in York Chapel on October 2, 1974.

wanted a vindication of the righteous. They were answered by the
cross, on which was executed an innocent victim of human injustice.
They wanted a triumph of God over evil. But the cross symbolized
the apparent defeat of God by evil. 'Tor the Jews demand signs
. . . but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews. . . ."

The Greeks did not expect a Messiah. There is nothing so
foolish as an answer to an unasked question. The message of the
cross was foolishness to the Greeks because the Greeks had no
questions for which the cross was an answer. The Greeks, unlike
the Jews, did not take history and its problems seriously.

The Greeks did not believe that one could solve the problems
of injustice in history. There are no solutions for any of the prob-
lems in history. History is like nature. Just as autumn follows
summer and winter follows autumn, just as harvest follows seedtime
and seedtime precedes harvest, so too human life is a recurrent
cycle of birth and death. Every problem repeats itself, given enough
time. The philosopher Seneca said: "There is nothing permanent
except change." It is futile, said the Greeks to the Jews, to look
for some meaning in history. There is no meaning in history.
History is not moving toward a goal in which the good will triumph
decisively over the evil forces in the world. History is not moving
toward any goal at all.

The Greeks wanted to escape from this world, in which nothing
is finally resolved and in which everything is subject to change and
decay, to an eternal realm where nothing changes, grows old,
decays — a realm of eternal and unchanging truth. We believe that
the world we can see and touch — the world of 4:15 planes to
Atlanta, of campaign buttons and January white sales, of Exxon
gasoline and income taxes — is the real world, the world that counts.
No so the Greeks. The real world is the world of eternal ideas.
And there is something to be said for this point of view. Paint a
fence post white; in five years — or less — you must paint it again.
Visit your hometown after an absence of several years and see if
you can find your way about. Meet a friend you knew in high
school on a business trip and notice how he has aged. Can a world
that changes this much be real? The Greeks thought not. And so
the Greeks sought wisdom, an eternal and unchanging truth. What
is good and beautiful and true does not change from day to day
or year to year.

The Greeks did not need Christ to put them in touch with this
eternal realm, because there is a Christ in every man — a spark of
divinity — human reason! Human reason does not need to be de-
ceived by the appearances of this world. Earth satisfies animals,
but it cannot satisfy us. There is a longing in man for what is
eternal and unchanging. William Watson put it this way:

In this house with starry dome.
Floored with gemHke plains and seas,
Shall I never feel at home,
Never wholly be at ease?

Never, answered the Greeks. We weren't meant to feel at home
in this world. Our spirits belong to eternity. "For Greeks seek
wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified . . . folly to Gentiles. . . ."

Ill

The cross is a sign that God does not hesitate to work in a
manner which is contrary to human expectation. The Jews wanted
a vindication of the righteous against the forces of evil in this
world. But God, in a display of evident weakness, allowed the
Messiah to be crucified by those same forces of evil. The Greeks
wanted to avoid this world and its problems altogether, and find
their fulfillment in a timeless and unchanging world of ideas. But
God, for reasons which are opaque and inexplicable to the Greek
mind, poured out his love and mercy on this changing, aging and
dying world.

We cannot bind God to our expectations of how he ought to
act. God always reveals himself to be something more, something
better, something other than we imagined him to be. The prodigal
son thought his father would be an avenger. But he turned out,
after all, to be a father. The rich young ruler thought that Jesus
would concur with him in his own estimation of himself as a pious
man. And was shocked when Jesus told him to sell all that he had
and give it to the poor. God takes the unexpected turn, the
unlooked-for tack. He does not try to conform to our expectations.
He has the freedom to be what he is. He sets the terms on which
he reveals himself. He defines the basis on which we come to know
him. He is not obliged to revise his course of activity to meet our
expectations. Rather we are obliged to revise our expectations in
the light of what he has shown himself to be.

The cross reveals the wisdom of God. That is, of course, not
instantly apparent. The evidence one sees speaks eloquently to the

contrar)'. The Jews and the Greeks mentioned by Paul were cer-
tainly wrong to reject Jesus as the Christ, as Lord and Savior, but
one can hardly fault their interpretation of the facts. That an
omnipotent God should allow the Messiah to be the victim of a
cruel injustice — that certainly is a stumbling block for faith; that
an eternal God should suffer the indignities of the cross — one can
only call that foolish. Weakness and folly seem appropriate enough
descriptions of the meaning of the cross. But the "foolishness of
God is wiser than men and the weakness of God is stronger than
men." Hidden underneath the folly of the cross is the wisdom of
God. God, who suffers apparent defeat in the cross, uses that
defeat as the instrument to save those who believe. Beneath the
"no" of the cross, one finds a deeply hidden "yes."

The task to which we are called as ministers of the Church is
the proclamation of the folly of the cross, of the weakness in which
God's strength is revealed. There was a symposium two years ago
in the United Church Herald on the meaning of ordination. One
of the contributors, a student from a seminary in the East, described
ordination as setting out on a quest. The minister did not have
all the answers to the questions which his people would raise, but
together with his people, as a co-learner, he would seek for answers
to the meaning of life.

Humility is usually a virtue, but it is possible for humility to
be misplaced. G. K. Chesterton posited a mythical people too
humble to believe the multiplication table. It is humility for a
minister to disavow that he has all the answers, but it is not
humility to claim that he has no answers at all. It is either un-
believable stupidity or faithlessness. The minister has received
answers to the great questions of life which he did not cook up
and which he has a responsibility to transmit. The minister is not
the transmitter of his own private beliefs and dreams. He is the
bearer of the Church's proclamation of the crucified Lord, however
much his communication of that gospel bears his own individual
stamp. The Church lives from the message of the cross. It does
not live from the private religious ideas of its ministers.

It is not easy to preach the message of the cross. In our day,
as in St. Paul's, that message runs contrary to human expectations.
The Jews wanted a God to vindicate the pious; the Greeks, a God
who instructed the wise. People want a God who doesn't trouble
them too much, who grants a maximum of blessings and makes a

minimum of demands; a God who dwells at the periphery of life,
near enough to hear us when we cry to him, but far enough away
not to be a source of embarrassment to us. But God does not try
to meet our requirements, does not try to fit our expectations. He
cancels out our demand on him and lays his own demand on us.

Sometimes his demands are very painful to us. Augustine, when
he first began to feel the need of God, prayed for light on the dark
problems of his life. God granted him light. But the first thing
it showed was his own unchastity and incontinence. He prayed for
the truth — even if it hurt. And it did!

Nevertheless, if we accept his terms, if we let him be the God
he wants to be and not the God we wrongly imagined him to be,
we will find opening up before us the way of wisdom and peace.
The cross looked like the frustration of God's plan, the decisive
evidence of his utter powerlessness in the world. But God uses the
cross as the instrument of his mercy to defeat sin and evil in an
unexpected way.

It seems like folly when the Church commissions you to preach
this message of the cross. But if you have the courage to proclaim
it — always a stumbling block to Jews and sheer folly to Gentiles —
you will prove the power of God to strengthen the weak hands and
confirm the feeble knees. You will find that his strength — as he
said it would — is made perfect in your weakness, and you will dis-
cover for yourself that "the foolishness of God is wiser than men,
and the weakness of God is stronger than men."

Some New Books Related
to Preaching

Colin Morris, The Word and the Words (Abingdon, 1975, $3.95 pb).
This book is a defense of classical preaching — proclamation of
the Word through the sermon as it has been understood in Chris-
tian history. Some of the material was offered in the Frank S.
Hickman Lectures on Ministry at Duke in the autumn of 1974.

G. Gerald Harrop, Elijah Speaks Today (Abingdon, 1975, $4.95 pb).
An Old Testament professor demonstrates how technical Bible
study may imaginatively relate to history, drama, and preaching to
bridge the gap between the academic classroom and the pew.

John Killinger, editor, The 11 O'Clock Nexus and Other Experi-
mental Sermons (Abingdon, 1975, $6.95).

A collection of sermons and worship experiences that are ex-
amples of spontaneity and creative freedom. Many of the sermons
use media such as casettes, films, slides, music, etc.

George E. Sweazey, Preaching the Good News (Prentice-Hall, 1976).
A practical book that addresses question like, "How to prepare
a sermon," "Can style be improved?", "Where to get sermon ma-
terial," "How do lay members relate to preaching and sermon
preparation?", and much more.

David H. C. Read, Sent from God (Abingdon, 1974, $3.95).

The Lyman Beecher Lectures at Yale for the year 1973. Dr.
Read presents his case for preaching today, emphasizing the inter-
action of preacher and hearer. An individual sent from God to
live, communicate, and empathize with people and then mount the
pulpit.

Clement W. Welsh, Preaching in a Neio Key (United Church Press,

1974).

These studies in the psychology of thinking and listening do
not address the questions of how or what to preach, but they offer
a theory of preaching that takes seriously a person as a center where
messages from a universe are received.

O. C. Edwards, Jr., The Living Active Word (Seabury, 1975).

A suggested useable approach to authentic Biblical preaching in
an effort to restore the Bible to its rightful place in homilies.

Clyde E. Fant, Preaching for Today (Harper and Row, 1975).

A Religious Book Club selection that addresses the theme of
"Incarnational preaching" and builds on the theology of preaching
with attention to the preacher as a person of faith.

Proclamation: Aids for Interpreting the Church Year (24 volumes,
eight for each lectionary year of a three-year cycle), (Fortress
Press, 1973-75, $1.95 each).
Authors from varieties of traditions and experience offer exe-

getical and homiletical interpretations of the'pericopes for each

Sunday and for special days in the Church Year.

Reginald H. Fuller, Preaching the New Lectionary (Liturgical Press,

1974, $7).

These interpretations of the lessons for each Sunday were first
published over a three-year period in the journal, Worship.

A Lectionary (Consultation on Church Union, 228 Alexander Street,
Princeton, N. J. 08540, 1-10 copies 25^ each, 11-1000 copies 20^
each).
An ecumenical lectionary related to the recent lectionaries of

several traditions.

Focus On
Faculty

EDWIN R. GARRISON, Visiting Consultant for Field Education
and Continuing Education; Retired Bishop, Dakotas Area,
United Methodist Church

Since I have been invited to share some points of my ministry
in which I have found a strong sense of fulfillment, I shall limit
my "autobiographical statement" to a factual listing and then add
some more personal observations.

Born in Clinton County, Indiana, 1897, eldest son of Elliot and
Susie (Enright) Garrison.

DePauw University, A.B. 1921, D.D. 1944; Drew Theological
Seminary, B.D. 1923; graduate studies at Dreio and Columbia
Universities; LL.D. Dakota Wesleyan University 1964.

Married Edith Heritage, Jan. 20, 1922 (deceased July 14, 1971);
daughters: Helen Carolyn (Mrs. Lewis Kauffmann), Marion
Ann (Mrs. J. H. LoPrete); married Marion Frances Thompson,
Mar. 10, 1973.

Ordained Deacon in North Indiana Conference, Methodist
Episcopal Church, 1925.

Pastorates: Vaux Hall, N. J. (student), 1922-28; Sheridan,
Indiana, 1928-32; St. Paul's, Elkhart, Indiana, 1932-39; Bluffton,
Indiana, 1939-42; Wayne Street, Ft. Wayne, Indiana, 1947-50.

The congregations which did most for my soul were those where
I felt most needed. My student appointment was a prime example.
The community ranged from slum to middle class. Many were
immigrants; education and income levels were low. Community
life was tumultuous. Some people from the old-world culture jeered
at the church. Others, with touching simplicity, leaned heavily on
us. More than fifty years later we still hear from some of these
people now scattered to the four corners of the nation.

Then there was the congregation served during the "Great
Depression" of the early 1930's. We never received our estimated
salary for the good reason that everyone was flat broke. Spiritual
communication was often at a deep level. Lasting friendships grew
out of this tribulation.

District Superintendent, Wabash District, 1942-47; Board of
Ministry, North Indiana Conference, 1948-60; Administrative
Assistant to Bishop, Indiana Area, 1950-60.

Administratively, the great adventure was to leave a major con-
gregation in one's middle life to become administrative assistant
and alter ego to the resident bishop, Richard C. Raines. Many
bishops had experimented with various kinds of help, including
men fresh from seminary who drove the car or did clerical work.
But no bishop had blocked out large areas of responsibility and
given full authority to execute it. The Area covered the State of
Indiana and contained three substantial Annual Conferences. This
was before the day of the Conference Council on Ministries with
program directors. Would pastors and people, and especially Dis-
trict Superintendents, accept such leadership? Would they really
believe that the new official would never discuss appointments with
the bishop or any other persons? There was no Methodist prece-
dent or experience in the United States by which one could judge
the possibility. I was troubled by the memory that the search com-
mittee, early in its work, had delineated the proper kind of candi-
date as "a person with his future behind him"! But the job worked
out because there was mutual trust.

Elected Bishop, July 8, 1960, North Central jurisdiction; as-
signed to Dakotas Area 1960-68; retired by General Conference,
1968: assigned by Council of Bishops to make study of the
Methodist Parish System, published in 1971 as The Parish for
the New Age.

Election to the Episcopacy touched off a gala celebration by
friends and a deluge of congratulatory messages. But the experi-
ence left me with an indelible impression akin to fear. I was awe-
struck at the thought of the trust which the election implied. Even
in retirement the feeling is sometimes overwhelming. One becomes
a member of the Council of Bishops with participation in the over-
sight of a world-wide church and at the same time is assigned to a
specific Episcopal Area — in my case the Dakotas Area, where less
than sixty-five thousand members are scattered over a geographic
space a little larger than the combined states of Florida, Georgia
and South Carolina. Fortunately for me, there are no better people
in America than those to be found on those great plains, and their
spiritual support and encouragement was a heaven-sent gift.

Member, General Conference, The Methodist Church, 1944,
1948, 1960; North Central Jurisdictional Conference, 1944-48-
32-56-60; General Board of Education, 1944-52; Coordinating
Council, 1952-64 (Chairman 1960-64); Board of Missions, Na-
tional Division, 1960-64, Joint Committee on Missionary Per-
sonnel; Committee on Interjurisdictional Relations, 1964-68;
Committee on Study of Ministry, 1964-68.

Work with the Coordinating Council was very rewarding. The
agency was created by the General Conference of 1952 with a broad
spectrum of responsibility. It was to recommend the number and
timing of "Special Days" in the chuixh program; survey agency
periodicals and make recommendations concerning possible con-
solidation; study the general agencies with a view to elimination
of overlapping work; and conduct special studies referred to it by
the General Conference.

The Council created the Board of Christian Social Concerns
(now Church and Society) by combining and reorganizing the
Boards of Temperance, World Peace, and Social and Economic
Relations. It substantially cut the overlapping of periodicals. It
produced a study of the Episcopacy which resulted in a lower com-
pulsory retirement age, provided for simultaneous sessions of the
several Jurisdictional Conferences to make possible the exchange
of bishops (in case that state of grace ever arrives), and recom-
mended changed procedures for the work of the Council of Bishops,
creating a new climate in that body.

The unforgettable experience was the comradeship which de-
veloped among those 36 persons from the (then) six Jurisdictions
and the overseas church. We worked long hours over complicated
documents, usually around tables arranged in a hollow square,
with an intimacy in which we recognized one another's voices with-
out looking for a face or an up-lifted hand. We knew we had to
face the whole church with our work. Nothing could be shoddy or
careless. We had no passengers aboard for the ride; all were crew.
In 12 years, as I remember, the General Conference rejected just
one of our reports.

Board of Directors, Indiana Council of Churches, 1953-60;
President, Board of Directors, Indiana School of Religion,
1956-60; Honorary Life Member, United Methodist Rural Life
Fellowship; Member, founding Board of Directors, Indiana
Civil Liberties Union, 1954-60; Chairman, South Dakota Ad-

visory Committee, U. S. Commission on Civil Rights, 1964-68;
Vice-President, Americans United for Separation of Church and
State, 1966-76; Lambda Chi Alpha Fraternity; Scottish Rite
Mason.

Home Address: 346 East Methodist Drive, Franklin, Indiana
46131.

As I try retirement, once again, my catalogue of fulfilling experi-
ences must, preeminently, include these four school years at Duke
Divinity School. I regard this period as one of the crowning privi-
leges of my professional life. Dean Langford and all faculty mem-
bers have been most generous as they have given me opportunities
for fellowship with them. I could have felt threatened by their
encyclopedic knowledge and expertise in so many fields but, with-
out exception, they have graciously made Marion and me a part
of the community. The commitment of students inspires us to
greater devotion. Our wildest imaginings could not have foretold
the joy and privilege of this stimulating company in the magnificent
setting of Duke University. We shall be grateful for these blessings
until the end of our lives.

Book
Reviews

When Cancer Comes. Clarence McCon-
key. Westminster. 1974. 140 pp.
$2.95.

"Cancer Family" is an image which
draws together those who have been
touched by cancer — physically, emo-
tionally, professionally, and religiously;
all are part of the Cancer Family.
This holistic perspective controls the
eight chapters of the book.

The chapters, "Prevention and
Treatment" and "We Respond to
Cancer — Shock, Fear, Hope" are good.
Chapters on "family" dynamics pro-
vide good general background infor-
mation but no effort to analyze the
data is mounted. Three chapters con-
sider the religious question. These are
less helpful, if not misleading. For
openers McConkey says, "I believe in
faith healing" (p. 117) but gives his
own definition: "it is my belief that
religious faith helps in maintaining
healthful patterns of life . . ." (p. 118).
Such crass pragmatism reduces faith
to sheer operationalism. Not so.

Wheyi Cancer Comes fails to achieve
its "family" potential. McConkey's
wife died of cancer and he had a bout
with it. As I read I kept forgetting
about the pathos, richness of experi-
ence and strength which surely belongs
to McConkey but never made it into
print. How sad. Nonetheless, a good,
educational resource for pastors and
laity.

— Paul A. Mickey

Christopaganism or Indigenous Chris-
tianity? Tetsunao Yamamori and
Charles R. Taber, editors. William
Carey Library. 1975. 262 pp. $5.95.

It is somewhat ironical that missiol-
ogy ("the field of research and theory")
comes to the fore, especially among
Evangelicals and Roman Catholics, at
the very time when mission ("the ap-
plied activity of that theory in the
world") seems to be in decline. It is

also somewhat surprising to find these
missiologists avidly advocating the
latest scientific techniques, from com-
puterized statistics to scientific field
research. "Every missionary," says one
of them twice in this book, "should
have anthropological training and
understand the worldview of the peo-
ple to whom he takes the gospel" (179
& 192).

At the William S. Carter Symposium
on Church Growth, held at Milligan
College, Tennessee, in April of 1974,
"four highly qualified missiologists in
different disciplines and with different
areas of experience examined the pe-
rennial problem (accommodation ver-
sus syncretism) in the effective and
sound communication of the gospel"
(10). Coordinator of the conference
and co-editor of the published papers
was Tetsunao Yamamori (Duke Ph.D.
1970). The panel in a carefully struc-
tured format consisted of David Mc-
Gavran and Alan Tippett from the
School of World Mission at Fuller
Theological Seminary, Peter Beyerhaus
of the Institute for Missions and Ecu-
menical Theology at Tiibingen, and
J. C. Hoekendijk of Union Theological
Seminary, New York.

The fact that these men have served
extensively — and perceptively — in vari-
ous parts of the world (India, the Fiji
Islands, South Africa, and Indonesia)
makes their illustrations vivid as well
as relevant, their insights valid as well
as stimulating. The question assigned
to them was, in Tippett's words, "how
to communicate the essential supra-
cultural core of the gospel to new be-
lievers in other cultures without hav-
ing it contaminated by the non-
Christian forms with which it must be
communicated and shared" (14). It
should surprise no one that the con-
clusions reached — after wanderings
through anthropological, sociological,
psychological, and practical jungles —
offered no concrete guidelines but

simply reflected the fundamental theo-
logical presuppositions of the partici-
pants.

McGavran (contra Barth and
Kraemer) concedes that "all cultures
and religions have in them apprehen-
sions of the divine, understandings of
reality, beliefs concerning gods and
man, which when properly used help
non-Christians understand the gospel"
(162). But he is convinced that 'the
faith ... is to be known strictly from
the Bible" (37), that "it is easy to
distinguish matters in which there is
obviously no ultimate truth . . . from
those in which commands of God are
involved and ultimate truth is con-
cerned" (167). Beyerhaus, viewing
"salvation history as a warfare between
the kingdoms of God and Satan," goes
on to warn that neglect of this prin-
ciple "is the greatest menace in the
present encounter between ecumenical
Christianity and non-Christian re-
ligions" (139); "not the magical threat
of the human enemy is our real
danger, but the righteous wrath of
God" (91).

Long before reaching the summary
statements, this reader was asking
(with Hoekendijk, 218), "How can you
be so secure?" To quote the Union
professor further: "Motivations for
joining the minority Christian com-
munity are, always, not for us to de-
cide on. Humble agnosticism is one
of the key words of our current mis-
siological vocabulary" (75). McGavran
is sure that "the essential core of the
Christian religion is broadly and
briefly definable" (41): the Bible and
the Triune God (though the latter is
admittedly "not clearly set forth" in
Scriptures). But in his final paper he
resorts to "the pragmatic test" (242),
the establishment of an on-going
church, to determine whether a ques-
tiohal)le practice is "legitimate ac-
commodation" or "illegitimate syn-
cretism" (Yamamori, 11). Tippett
(114) divides the human problem into
"the encounter between the religion-
man and the apostolic-man" — although
Beyerhaus graciously concludes that
there is not "a proper representative

of the religion-man approach in our
midst" (203).

Beyond "our midst," however, Beyer-
haus' sweeping generalizations fall
harslily: "This is, indeed, what is go-
ing on within the ecumenical move-
ment today. All confessional traditions
are openly or secretly reinterpreted in
the light of Marxistic humanism
(202) .... The whole ecumenical con-
cept of history is a monistic one. No
distinguishing line is drawn between
world history and church history any
more . . ." (214). But one may even
agree with Beyerhaus that "the Judeo-
Christian religion is, as far as its con-
victions are concerned, the most in-
tolerant of all religions" (120), yet
differ with his missiological conse-
quences. Hoekendijk, on the other
hand, quotes approvingly Max War-
ren's plea "to sit {sessio, not possessio)
where people sit (Ezek. 3:5) and, with-
out labels, let God happen" (151).

Apart from theological and missi-
ological differences, however, one may
have difficulty with the terminology.
"Christopaganism" may be scientific,
professional jargon for "syncretism,"
but it is more confusing to the aver-
age reader — and by the end of the
symposium the speakers have almost
completely dropped it. "Dynamic
equivalence" is preferable to "approxi-
mate equivalence" and "formal cul-
tural transformation" to "faith dis-
tortion," but the dividing lines are
very fuzzy. "Exclusive comprehensive
possessio" mav be God's purpose, but
it smacks dangerously of cultural and
ideological imperialism when applied
to mission policies. Despite a footnote
apology, "Euricans" and "Latfrica-
sians " (for inhabitants of various
regions of the world) sound more like
Martians than fcilow-mcmbers of the
Christian commiuiity.

In short, the Carter Symposium on
Church Growth sets up more dichoto-
mies and disturbing confrontations
than it resolves. But, in this reviewer's
opinion, that is the purpose, the prin-
cipal value, of any dialogue — includ-
ing the "accommodation-syncretism
axis." — Creighton Lacy

Spring 1976

THE
DUKE
DIVrNITY SCHOOL
REVIEW

Volume 41 Spring 1976 Number 2

CONTENTS

Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas 51

by W. D. Davies

The Rise and Fall of the Bible in Recent American Theology 57
by Robert T. Osborn

Biblical Missiology and Mission 73

by Creighton Lacy

Early Christian Variations on the Parable of the Lost Sheep . 85
by Robert C. Gregg

Biblical Perspectives on Human Sexuality 105

by Stephen Sapp

The Bible in Worship 123

by Robert T. Yoimg and Helen Crotwell

Book Reviews 129

Editor: Creighton Lacy; Associate Editors: John Bergland, Donn
Michael Farris, Roland E. Murphy, Charles Robinson, John
Westerhoff, Laine Calloway, Stephen Cross.

Published three times a year (Winter, Spring, Fall)
by the Divinity School of Duke University

Postage paid at Durham, North Carolina, 27706

Studiorum Novi
Testamenti Societas

by W. D. Davies

George Washingtoyi Ivey Processor of Advanced Studies

and Research in Christian Origins; President of the Society

of New Testament Studies

The Editor has asked me to comment on the international group
of scholars who will assemble for the annual meeting of the Society
of New Testament Studies at Duke University, August 16-20, 1976.

To understand the emergence and significance of SNTS it is
necessary to recall factors which impinged upon the study of the
New Testament since World War I. That war is still referred to in
Britain and, I believe, on the continent of Europe generally as The
War; even World War II did not impress itself as deeply on the
European mind. The reason is simple. World War I was extra-
ordinarily bloody. The immense loss of life it involved has been
claimed even to have altered the genetic balance or reservoir of
European society. And the wounds it inflicted invaded scholarship.
When at last peace came, even New Testament scholars found it
difficult to bury the hatchet. British students of my generation often
imbibed the national prejudices. For example, in many, if not
most, grammar schools far more French was taught than German;
in many grammar schools no German was taught. On the other
hand, on the dedicatory page of his Das Matthdusevangclium of
1927 Erich Klostermann could quote Eduard Reuss: "Wir reden
deutsch, heisst ja nicht bloss, das Avir unsere Muttersprache nicht
abschworen wollen, sondern es heisst, das wir in unserer ganzen
Art und Sitte, in unserem Glauben, Wollen und Tun deutsche
Kraft und Treue, deutschen Ernst und Gemeingeist bewahren wol-
len." For many years after World I a few British New Testament
scholars visited Germany, but it was by no means assumed that it
was necessary to study there. C. H. Dodd found that he had to
advise even R. H. Lightfoot to do so. Few German scholars studied
in Britain, and French scholars also indulged in national isolation-
ism.

Although most leading scholars escaped these consequences,
some imfortunate results were predictable — national provincialism
and international poverty in New Testament scholarship. Very
gradually this came to be recognized. New Testament scholars
began to combat scholarly isolationism and, just before the out-
break of World War II, SNTS came to birth, largely for this very
pinpose. The initiative for it came from a Dutch scholar. Professor
J. de Zwaan of Leiden. At the Faith and Order Conference at Edin-
burgh in 19!57, he suggested the formation of a society for New
Testament scholars. The response was immediate and warm. The
Very Rev. G. S. Duncan of St. Andrews was asked to invite the
interest and support of New Testament specialists. The letter he
directed to them on March 8, 1938, reads as follows:

During the Faith and Order Conference at Edinburgh in August, a
small informal group met together to consider the possible formation of a
New Testament Society. The moving spirit was J. de Zwaan, Leiden. The
others were C. H. Dodd; H. L. Goudge; T. W. Manson; H. G. Wood and
G. H. Boobycr of Woodbrooke; W. Manson, Edinburgh; E. P. Dici<ie and
myself from St. Andrews; H. Clavier, Montpcllicr; E. G. Gulin, Helsingfors;
H. L. MacNeill of Hamilton, Ontario. It was strongly felt that such a
Society was desirable; and various opinions were mooted regarding the form
it ought to take. . . . Prof, de Zwaan has also in mind the issue of a new
International Quarterly for N.T. Study. . . . As time was lacking for a
more detailed discussion, it was suggested at Edinburgh that an attempt
should be made to get a few interested people to meet together in England,
say, in September, 1938. ... I write now to inform you of the proposal,
and to solicit your cooperation. . . .

The proposed conference was held at Carey Hall, Selly Oak Col-
lege, Birmingham, on September 14-16, 1938. Professor J. M. Creed
of Cambridge was elected Chairman of the Conference and Dr. G.
H. Boobyer as Secretary. At this time the possibility that the Society
should publish an international journal was discussed, especially
under the urging of de Zwaan. At the fourth session of the Con-
ference, Professor C. H. Dodd proposed "that we do form ourselves
into a New Testament Society having for its object the furtherance
of our New Testament studies." A provisional committee was set
up to build the new organization. The members of it were: J. M.
Creed, J. de Zwaan, T. W. Manson, Gerhard Kittel, W. F. Ho\\ard,
and G. H. Boobyer. This provisional conmiittee chose the name of
the Society — a Latin name being preferred in keeping with its inter-
national character — and drew up a draft constitution and made
plans for a General Meeting lo be held at the College of the Ascen-
sion, Selly Oak, Birmingham, in September 20-22, 1939. Alas, World

War II intervened, and it was not until March 26, 1947, that the
first General Meeting was held, at Christ Church, Oxford. Professor
T. W. Manson, who had become Chairman of the provisional com-
mittee on the death of J. M. Creed, handed over the leadership to
de Zwaan, who, in recognition of his initiative, was made the first
President of the Society. He gave his presidential address, and
papers were read by Anton Fridrichsen, William Manson, and A.
E. J. Rawlinson. All their addresses are still very vivid in my
memory. The first five General Meetings were held in Oxford, the
sixth at Bern. Most meetings continued to be held in Britain, but
then it became policy to meet at intervals in a Continental center.

The membership has steadily grown so that at present it stands
at around 700, about half of whom are from this country — a strik-
ing and significant indication of the role now played by American
scholarship. As will have appeared, from the first SNTS has been
deliberately international, and among its greatest achievements has
been the fostering of a new openness to all traditions of scholar-
ship and of a mutual respect and friendship between New Testa-
ment scholars in all countries. It has helped to break down the
national walls of partition and, thereby, added to the width, the
depth, and the quality of New Testament scholarship. In 1972 —
in a year in which it had been hoped that SNTS would come to
Duke University — the Society for the first time came to this con-
tinent, in connection with the World Congress at Los Angeles,
organized by Professor J. M. Robinson (although the SNTS meet-
ings were held separately at Claremont). The General Meeting at
our University will be the second in the U.S.A. It is particularly
felicitous that it should come on this year of our own 50th Anni-
versary and of the nation's Bicentennial celebration.

But the General Meetings — devoted to the reading of papers
and seminars — are not the only activity of the Society. From the
very first, as we saw, de Zwaan had urged the necessity for creating
an international periodical of New Testament studies. The General
Meeting in Cambridge in September, 1953, decided to proceed with
such a periodical. Under the editorship of Professor Matthew Black,
who had already served as Treasurer of the Society, it came into
being, as a quarterly, under the title New Testament Studies. The
first issue was published in September, 1954. Before this date the
Society had published three Bulletins of Proceedings, for 1950,
1951, and 1952, published by the Oxonian Press, Oxford. The
papers read at the first General Meeting held on the continent at

Bern in 1952 were published in a separate brochure, Ma?? in God's
Design (by C. H. Dockl, P. I. Bratsiotis, R. Bultmann, and H.
Clavier, printed by Imprimeries Reunies, 9 rue Pasteur, Valence,
France).

The aim of the journal is that of the Society itself: "the further-
ance of New Testament studies." Such an aim is simply stated, but
students of this Divinity School ^vill know its complexity and com-
prehensiveness. It takes in the language and text, the background
and content— historical and theological — of the New Testament.
The journal has necessarily, theiefore, been technical — many num-
bers have been exclusively so — and appropriate articles, in French
and German as well as English, have regidarly appeared. The Edi-
tor of New Testament Studies has maintained from the beginning
the strictest textual, philological, historical, and literary critical
standards. In the fifties and in the sixties the pressure was some-
times considerable, under the impact of the theological concentra-
tion of the days of the so-called Biblical Theology, to neglect those
standards. But this was withstood, and New Testament Studies has
consistently remained true to its fundamental charter of furthering
New Testament studies in all their critical dimensions.

The Editor of New Testament Studies, although naturally con-
cerned to give a certain priority to papers actually communicated
at General Meetings, also cast a caring eye over the work of all
members who desired to publish in the journal. This care was to
lead to the inauguration of a series of Monographs under his editor-
ship. The series was designed to further the publication of techni-
cal, scholarly works by members of the Society, which, because of
their necessarily limited appeal, might otherwise never appear. The
first volume in the series, published in 1965, Avas by Bertil Gartner,
The Temple and the Community in Qjimran and the New Testa-
ment. Thirty volumes, many by American scholars, have so far
appeared. The present writer serves as assistant to the Editor in
funnelling the works of Americans to the series. Both the journal
New Testament Studies and the Monograph Series are internation-
ally recognized for the excellence of their achie\ement. This is in
large part due, it nuist be stated, to the dedicated guidance, learn-
ing, meticulosity, and wisdom of Matthew Black, who has also been
fortunate, not only in the help of many colleagues, l)ut j)articularly
in the understanding cooperation of the Cambridge University
Press, which has published the journal and the monographs. The
same tradition is now being tontinucd by the present Secretary,
Professor R. S. Barbour.

Many readers of this Review may well ask what relevance all
this strictly scholarly activity has for those immersed in the daily
care of the churches. The answer is not simple, but it is not hard
to give. In this comment I have emphasized the "scientific" char-
acter and purpose of SNTS. But in the very name of the Society
stands the New Testament. It is, therefore, of necessity concerned
with the foundation document of the Christian Faith under the
authority of which all those who have been and are connected with
this Divinity School stand. It is imperative to emphasize that the
men who founded SNTS were not only governed by strictly scien-
tific interests. They were also moved by devotion to the Faith that
created the New Testament and is, in turn, sustained by it. I can
testify to this from personal acquaintance with many of them.
They were not indiflerent to the strictly theological currents and
religious needs of their time. J. de Zwaan, in the first Presidential
Address read to the Society, wrote as follows:

For us, it is our desperate privilege to stand in a world which no
longer believes in the 'isms' of approved authorities or philosophies. Our
world has passed through so much that it has reached the courage of despair.
It is ready for a dive into the uttermost scepticism, a scepticism not of
reasoning, not born from undigested thought, but a more fundamental
scepticism, a scepticism of experience. 1 otal experience, experience drawing
its vitality from sub-conscious reactions, is the reaction of the whole of man
to his experience as a whole. That is a great and indeed awe-inspiring
experience. There is only one thing comparable to it. That one thing is
faith, faith as we meet it in the New Testament. Failh, not verbal, tradi-
tional or intellectual faith, hut faith as it is set forth in the Neic Testament
is the only weapon li\ which the perils of this situation can be overcome. I
presume that it is the will of God that ire, students of the Neiu Testament,
should by our professional studies and labours promote that better faith,
directly and indirecll\, in zvhatever luay we can. That should be our one
purpose. We should inspire ... by our vision of the tremendous importance
of New Testament revelation, by the perfect loyalty, cleanness and openness
of our methods and our whole mind, by the humility of our theorising and
the stern rejection of any kind of insincerity. It is a joy to live on the
threshold of a renascence of real theological thinking.

I have italicized words which unmistakably set forth what was
and is probably the deeper motivation of most if not all members
of SNTS. I cannot presume to enlarge upon this here. Within the
limits available, one can only state that for us who are called to
proclaim the Faith it is only by using the rigors of scientific criticism
that we can stand four-square to the cold winds that now blow,
and command any respect. C>ritical work such as goes on in SNTS,
New Testament Studies, and the Monograph Series is not an irrele-

vant or optional luxury of scholars, but is the laboratory where the
primary documents of the Faith are examined in such a way as to
make possible honest exegesis and interpretation and proclamation.
The laboratory may sometimes seem remote from the ministry but,
in the end, feeds it. The theological problems created by the critical
study of the Bible are real; to pretend that the questions posed by
the Canon — its character and authority — are simple and negligible
is impossible. It is these very problems and questions, with which
every minister, and indeed every Christian, has to wrestle, that
ultimately concern SNTS. For ministers as for the members of the
Society an unexamined faith is not worth having.

But this is not all. The very examination of the New Testament
is liberating and illuminating and feeds the soul — not cheaply, not
easily, but with toil, sweat, and often tears. In these scholar and
minister need not be separated and are called upon to share.

The Rise and Fall of the Bible
in Recent American Theology

by Robert T. Osborn

Professor, Department of Religion

Once upon a time, during World War I, Karl Barth and his
colleagues were driven as a last resort by the exigencies of the day
to look to the Bible for their theological existence. Their search
was rewarded, for they thought to have discovered in the Bible a
witness to the "strange new world" of God and a new call to genuine
"theological existence today." The resultant "neo-orthodoxy" was
a theology for which the Bible was essential, its only necessary and
sufficient cause. It was the "theology of the word of God."

Significantly, the new theology was born of extremity. When
Barth made his discovery, he was a parish pastor whose inherited
theology was failing. It was failing to speak to the concrete needs
of the working people of his parish who suffered an economic op-
pression that was pushing them to the margins of their society, and
it was also failing to answer to the roar of the guns across the
border which threatened to drive the whole world to its extremity.
Theological existence in this oppressing and oppressed world
seemed impossible, except for the rediscovered witness of the Bible
to the eschatological world of divine reality and promise. ^

Barth and his associates eventually made an impression on
America which contributed to the rise, if not of a neo-orthodoxy,
of a new theological realism that was to find most persuasive ex-
pression in the word and writings of Reinhold Niebuhr. Niebuhr,
like Barth, had not only served as pastor in an industrial parish
but also employed a Marxist analysis that gave him insight
into the oppression and needs of his people.- He was ready for the
realistic and promising Biblical word as it was being spoken and
witnessed in European neo-orthodoxy. Thus, from the early thirties
through World War II and into the fifties, theological realism and

1. For the beginnings of Earth's theology see James D. Smart, trans. Revolu-
tionary Theology in the Making (Richmond: John Knox Press, 1964), pp. 11-64.

2. See Niebuhr's Moral Man and Immoral Society (New York: Charles
Scribner's Sons, 1960 [original, 1932]), for an early articulation of theological
ethics done from this perspective.

neo-orthodoxy were to find sufficient soil in America to grow and
eventually predominate in centers of American theology. However,
during the latter years of this period (in 1914 to be exact) Dietrich
Bonhoefter, while in prison, made some observations that were to
bring neo-orthodoxy into question. He had come to the realization
that modern man had come of age, that he had "matured" to the
point that he no longer needed his "father" God to negotiate his
world; at no point in his understanding of himself or his world
was it necessary or even possible for him any longer to resort to the
God-hypothesis. He was on his own.'' It was almost twenty years
later before this vision was to illuminate the American scene, in-
terestingly enough in significant measure through the mediation of
the English Bishop, John A. T. Robinson. He understood Bon-
hoeffer's vision and the correlative attack upon the "positivism" of
Barthian theology as a call to be "honest to God" and confess that
the neo-orthodox tradition with its transcendent, personal heavenly
"father" no longer speaks to our mature age.^ Gorresponding voices
in the United States which joined in the so-called "death of God"
theology replied with a firm "amen," and challenged the United
States to acknowledge its maturity and to throw off the yoke of
European neo-orthodoxy, which, it appears, had never so radically
claimed our theological existence as it had the European. ^ In fact,
it then became evident that America had never been "neo-ortho-
dox," certainly not "Barthian." Our Depression, shocking as it
was, caused nothing like the suffering of war and its aftermath.
Furthermore, we were victors and not the victims of wars that never
reached our shores. No, that "neo-orthodoxy," born of European
despair and pessimism, had never truly been our theology. In our
immaturity we had aped the Old World; like children we had per-
sistently followed the pied piper of German theology, but now we
were at the threshold of the mature declaration and acceptance of
our responsibility and prepared to sing our own theological tune.

I stress that Bonhoeffer merely illuminated our situation; he did
not create or shape it. His vision enabled American theology to
realize that "neo-orthodoxy" was a facade that had for awhile hid-
den our indigenous reality, even in the case of Reinhold Niebuhr.

3. See the correspondence beginning April 30, 1944 in Letters and Papers
frotn Prison (Lontlon: S.C.M. Press, Foiitana Books, 1953), pp. 9()fl.

4. John A. T. Rol)inson, Honest to God (Philadelphia: Westminster Press.
1963), pp. 11-64.

5. See Thomas J. J. Altizer and William Hamilton, liadical 'Ihrolooy and
the Death of God (New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 19GG), pp. 23-50.

Or, in other words, American theological independence appeared
long overdue. We had mature resources and needed only to claim
them. So, this move to independence in responsibility for our
maturation was two-edged, including both a "no" to neo-orthodoxy
and a subsequent "yes" to the resources of our maturity. Let us
examine the negative moment first.

Recall that neo-orthodoxy was a theology made possible by the
Bible. It was a theology for which the Bible was the word of God
and the necessary and sufficient ground of theological existence.
The casting off of this legacy meant that the Bible was no longer
necessary or sufficient for Cod-talk and so for theological existence.
The Bible and theology were fatefully separated.

This turning from the Bible, which for neo-orthodoxy had been
the only possibility of theology, understandably brought theologi-
cal existence itself into question. The death of the Bible was the
death of God — the mythical personal deity of the Bible who was
Jesus' "Father in heaven." Bishop Robinson rejected both the
Bible myth of the God "up there" and the metaphysical vision of
the God "out there," and asked rhetorically about "the end of
theism."*' Speaking for himself and other theologians of the death
of God, William Hamilton plaintively confessed that "we do not
know, do not adore, do not possess, do not believe in God, . . . We
are not talking about the absence of the experience of God but
about the experience of the absence of God."^ For a theologian
trained, as Hamilton, in the tradition of neo-orthodoxy, for which
the Bible had been the primary if not the only possibility of God-
talk, the death of the Bible meant the impossibility of such talk; it
was the event of God's own death. ^

When I speak of the death of the Bible, I should be understood
as referring to the neo-orthodox Bible — the Bible as the Word of
God. The Bible as a history book and as an important moment in
our culture and in the history of the now mature theologian of
course remained. Insofar as this Bible witnesses to the historical

6. Robinson, pp. 29ff.

7. Altizer and Hamilton, p. 28.

8. The separation of theology from Bible was aided by (and itself aided) the
separation of Bible from theology. Brevard Childs cites especially the efforts of
Krister Stendahl to separate radically the descriptive task of Biblical studies from
the constructive task of tlic theologian. See Brevard Childs, Biblical Theology in
Crisis (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1974), p. 79, and as well the entire chapter,
"The Cracking of the Wall," (pp. 61-87, especially pp. 77-87 where he discusses
"the theological dimension.")

Jesus, he also remained an important historical fact, though with
the death of God he had died as the "Christ" or the "Son of God."
As Altizer stated, "the Jesus whom we know is wholly detached from
the divine attributes of his traditional image. "^ The cross of Jesus
is precisely the event of kenosis in which the transcendent, personal
deity dies; it is the event in which Jesus is given over not to God
but to man and to human history.^" So, while the negative moment
of the thiowing off of neo-orthodoxy meant the death of God, the
death of Jesus as the Son of God, and of the Bible as the word of
God, it did not mean the death of the Bible as history, or of Jesus
as a fact of history. Theologians appeared to have Bible and Jesus,
but for the moment no theology, no word of God or word about
God, except in the case of those who could digest the dialectic of
a "theology" of a dead God. As subsequent events in the history of
our theology were to disclose, that dialectic was in fact not digest-
ible, and theology, in order to remain theology, had to find new
possibilities of God-talk, a foimdation for theological existence
other than the Bible. On the other hand, since the Bible and Jesus
did not disappear, but remained as moments of our history, they
too had to be dealt with. However, we nuist stress that the God
quest had to l^e undertaken beyond and independently of the Bible,
and, of course, the Bible was then free to be pursued historically,
independently of theological cjuestions and concerns. ^^

Neo-orthodoxy — the theology of the word of God — was born in
the parish. It was church theology. Understandably, if new theo-
logical possibilities were to be found, they were likely to manifest
themselves in a different context — namely, the academic, preferably
that of the university. Thus the sixties witnessed the exodus of
many distinguished theologians from the more chiuchy halls of the
seminary to the more objectively academic environs of the univer-
sity. In his debate with Barth, Harnack denied the possibility of
a scientific study of theology within the context of the Church and
faith. Whereas Barth, and neo-orthodoxy generally, found it to
be the only way, mature American theology, having thro^\•n oft neo-
orthodoxy, was to reconfirm Harnack's judgment and return to the
university in pursuit of a scientific theology that ^vould stand the
test of the times. The first task was the justification of theological

9. Allizer and Hamilton, p. 135.

10. Ibid., pp. 30ff.

11. Bit'vard Childs, o/;. cit., documents this development thoroughly.

existence itself by the discovery of new possibilities of God-talk. i-
The alternative to Biblical (neo-orthodox) theism, theology
authorized by the Bible, wixs a natural theology authorized by uni-
versal human experience. This was and is not explicitly acknowl-
edged in many cases, because of the historical hangover from neo-
orthodoxy's critique of natural theology. Nevertheless, that was
the only alternative. As theologians settled into the university to
undertake the quest of God, it became apparent that there were
already mature theologians at work who were prepared to point the
way. Although their distinctive alternatives had been developed
for some time, they had been hidden and significantly obscured in
the shadow of the umbrella of neo-orthodoxy. Now, as theology
moved out from this shadow, these alternatives emerged, and there
were three major ones — the ontological theology of Paul Tillich
at Union-Columbia, the historical-ethical theology of H. R. Niebuhr
at Yale, and the tradition of process theology at the University of
Chicago. In pursuit of theological existence, each focused upon a
different dimension of experience — respectively the existential
"courage to be," the moral responsibility of historical existence,
and the organic process of nature.

Just a brief word about each of these approaches to theology
will serve to indicate how they understood and used scripture. Paul
Tillich found "God" manifest universally in human experience as
the ground of man's courage to be in the face of existential threats
to his being. As the eternal depth or ground and power of being
who sustains all existing beings against the powers of non-being and
the threatening limits of finitude, God is the infinite and trans-
cendent "Being Itself." Each historical or existential event of cour-
age to be is thus a symbol of this ultimate ground and power of
being.i^ Two points: 1. God transcends finitude and its categories;
he is the God above the personal, finite God of Biblical theism.^^
2. The Biblical event in general and the Jesus event in particular,
insofar as they too are rooted in the ground and power of "Being
Itself," are symbols of it; however, insofar as they symbolize it
radically, are indeed "transparent" to it, they are "once for all"

12. The sixties witnessed a spate of writings on the God question, e.g.,
Frederick Ferre, Language, Logic and God (1961); John Hick, The Existence of
God (1964); Frederick Herzog, Understanding Cod (1966); David Jenkins, Guide
to the Debate About God, (1966); John A. T. Robinson, Exploration Into God
(1967V

13. See Tillich's phenomenology of such existential courage, The Courage
To Be (New Haven: Yale University, 1952).

14. Ibid., pp. 186ff.

symbols, as it were, of the symbolic or sacramental nature of all
reality.^-' Tillich's system cannot and does not claim exclusiveness
for the Biblical symbols, except insofar as historically and contin-
gently they tend to function exclusively in Western society as the
determinative symbols.

H. Richard Niebuhr, in his Radical Monotheism, like Tillich
advocates a "radical monotheism" that "dethrones all absolutes
short of the principle of being itself."'" This principle of "being
itself" he designates as "the One," which is "no one reality among
the many but . . . the One beyond all the many." As with Tillich,
God is thus the radically transcendent one who is beyond all fini-
tude, even beyond the finitude of Jesus and the personalism of
Biblical theism. As such he is eternal, universal, and an immediate
presupposition of all human experience, so that faith, as a rela-
tionship to the One, is a "universal human necessity. "^^

While similar in his basic ontology to Tillich, Niebuhr places
a distinctive emphasis upon the moral experience of values as
opposed to the ontological experience of courage as the dimension
of universal experience in which "the One" manifests itself. The
One is thus revealed as the unifying source of all values, as the
principle of unity implicit in the diversity of value experiences.
Niebuhr developed and modified the position in the direction of
deontological ethics by speaking more of responsibility than of
values, in which case "the One" is manifest as a 'haunting sense of
unity and of universal responsibility. ''"^ He is "the One" to whom
all res|X)nd in every particular moral response. As for the particular
events of the Bible — Moses, the Prophets, Jesus, etc., — they are
events of the "incarnation of radical faith." Moses was an example
of the radical faith of Israel, whereas Jesus "mediated the radical
faith to folk whom Moses and the prophets did not reach. . . ."'^
Jesus is the event of incarnation to the extent that he is "the con-
crete expression in a total human life of radical trust in the One
and of universal loyalty to the realm of being."-"

15. Paul Tillich, Systematic Theology (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1951),
I, 120-122.

16. H. Richard Niebuhr, Radical Monotheism a}id Western Culture (New
York: Harper and Brothers, 1960), p. ;i7.

17. Ibid., p. 23.

18. The Responsible Self (New York: Harper and Row, 1963). p. 139.

19. Radical Monotheism, pp. 39ff.

20. Ibid., p. 40.

Obviously, the Bible is not a necessary, even a primary source
for God-talk. Jesus is "a symbol of a dimension of universal experi-
ence." The "ethos exemplified in Jesus is not unique. "-^ Jesus is
an exemplar of responsibility and thus a symbol, or, as Niebuhr
preferred, a metaphor of the One, but he is not the necessary or
"root rnetaphor," for that distinction belongs to the universal expe-
rience of "responsibility," through which we are finding, he says,
a new way "to understand Jesus Christ as well as a new form
through which to understand ourselves."-- The implications for
Niebuhr's use of the Bible are clear by the order and style of his
Radical Monotheism, in which the first chapter is given to a defini-
tion of monotheism and monotheistic faith without reference to the
Bible, and certainly without a Biblical style, as witness his prefer-
ence for such symbols of deity as "the One," the "ground of being,"
"the source of values," etc. The same structure and style are evi-
dent in The Responsible Self. Niebuhr can and does do theology
without the Bible. As a Westerner for whom Moses, Jesus, the
prophets and the apostles are inescapable moments of historical
destiny, he understandably though not necessarily cites the Biblical
narrative as exemplary, as a record of the incarnation of "radical
monotheism."

While the Chicago school of theology has been around for some
time, in recent years those who have succeeded more than others in
its rediscovery in response to Bonhoeffer's vision are John Cobb
and Schubert Ogden, though mention should be made of the late
D. D. Williams and Norman Pittenger.

Tillich's vision of Being Itself is mediated by the experience of
being, and Niebuhr's awareness of "the One" by moral and social
responsibility; however, Cobb, for instance, looks to the "natural"
or physical dimension of life for his keynote. He is distressed by
the ontological dualism of the spiritual and the physical and would
overcome it "through a critique of the notion of the physical as
physical."--^ His analysis of the physical shows that it is actually
a process or sequence of "energy events." Energy events are the
ultimate dimension of reality and include not only the so-called
physical but the spiritual or mental as well, lor the latter refers to
energy events that are "conscious," events "in which thinking takes

21. The Responsible Self, p. 167.

22. Ibid., pp. 158ff.

23. Ibid., p. 69.

place."^'* Here is the basic metaphor for God, who may also be
understood as an energy event, albeit, a "very special energy event"
which is all-inclusive and which constitutes itself by providing every
other energy event with an ideal for its own realization. ^^ "He is
at once the source of novelty and the lure to finer and richer
actualizations embodying that novelty. "^^ In a word, he is the
source and ground of the natural process that embraces both the
physical and mental dimensions of life. The awareness of the
possibility and necessity of this experience of a process that drives
persons forward and calls them, together with all of reality, to
actualize the ideal in their own particular occasion and event, com-
pels us to speak about God as the ground and source of this respon-
sibility and possibility. This vision of reality "is the fundamental
clue to thought and sensibility.''^?

Again, since Cobb can and must develop his position because of
the universal experience of reality, he is not dependent upon scrip-
ture or Christian tradition. Unlike most traditional theology, "the
starting point in earlier verbal formulations [apparently including
the Bible] is not required."-^ Theology's subject matter is not
distinctive, for it is concerned with "questions of importance for
man's meaningful existence."-^ Such questions are universal and
immediate to all experience. However, while Cobb's theology does
not need the Bible, his Christian heritage moves him to look to it
for perspective on experience, although experience itself remains
the source and basis of theology. Biblical symbols, Schubert Ogden
tells us, have as their reference "the abiding structure and mean-
ing of our actual existence here and now. . . ."^^

Reflecting a similar position, Ogden observed that Bultmann's
failure was his refusal to accept "the implication that the signifi-
cance of Jesus is simply that he decisively manifests or re-presents
man's universal possibility of authentic existence in and under the
love of God."^^ In a word, theology, even "Christian" theology, is

24. Ibid., p. 70.

25. Ibid., p. 71.

26. Ibid., p. 83.

27. Ibid., p. 123.

28. John B. Cobb, Jr., A Christian Natural Theology (Philadelphia: West-
minster, 1965), p. 253.

29. Ibid., p. 254.

30. Schubert Ogden, The Reality of God (New York: Harper and Row, 1966),
p. 210.

31. Schubert Ogden, Christ Without Myth (New York: Harper and Brothers,
1961), pp. 160ff.

natural and universal and depends on no "supernatural" and par-
ticular Biblical words or witness. The reality of God is "constitutive
of not only the special faith attested in scripture, but the common
faith and experience of all men simply as such."32

Formally, these three sources of mature American theology are
very similar, differing primarily in terms of their root metaphors
or symbols, but agreed that human experience itself speaks of God
and provides both the necessary sufficient ground of theology with-
out necessary or essential recourse to scripture.

In our review of Cobb and Ogden we have considered some of
the more recent expressions of theology in the Chicago tradition.
There are also later developments more in the tradition of Tillich
and H. R. Niebuhr. Langdon Gilkey, for instance, appears to move
with comfort within the Tillichian tradition, though certainly
stamping it with his distinctive approach, for unlike Tillich he has
had to contend more directly with the phenomenon of secularity
and the apparent meaninglessness, if not the impossibility, of God-
talk. It is necessary for him to discover and analyze again the
dimension of experience to which religious language might apply.
As he states, "a definite apprehension of the sacred is required in
order that there be specific, particular, symbolic forms of religious
discourse and out of them assertive propositions capable of validity
and invalidity."33 Theology which thus begins with experience
cannot go the route of the hermeneutical and neo-orthodox the-
ology which would seek to base God-talk on the Bible and the
word of God, for such theology appears to presuppose the mean-
ingfulness of religious language, is subject to no verification in
human experience, and fails to relate to human experience and our
real life situation.^^ Instead, the particular symbols of the Christian
faith and the theological reflection upon them presuppose an aware-
ness established philosophically of the universal experience of the
sacred, what Tillich designated as the ultimate concern. Theology
is 'Biblical' only because the general experience of ultimacy or
sacrality is "socially and historically conditioned.''^^ Historical,
social contingency, not divine election, is the authority for what-
ever touch theology makes with its historical base.

32. See The Reality of God, pp. 21 ff.

33. Langdon Gilkey, Naming the Whirlwind: The Renewal of God Language
(New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1969), p. 417.

34. See Gilkey, pp. 194-202.

35. Gilkey. p. 427.

In Langdon Gilkey we witness a relatively unequivocal fidelity
to the general method of Paul Tillich. Gordon Kaufmann of Har-
vard, however, appears only recently to have shed the remnants of
neo-orthodoxy in favor of a more consistent pursuit of an approach
that finds its antecedents in H. R. Niebuhr as well as Tillich. In
his Systematic Theology . . . ., Kaufmann evidently is seeking to
some extent to remain in the "Barthian" neo-orthodox camp. The
"historicist's perspective" he advocates is a theological point of
view determined by the particular historical events witnessed by
the scriptures. Since the Christian gospel is the announcement of
"a particular act of God in man's history," then, he states, "it is
evident that the ultimate epistemological foundation of Christian
faith and theology must be the reports of witnesses to that event. "•'^^
We sense some confusion and ambivalence when he speaks with
approbation of Tillich's method of correlation to conclude that the
historical norm [scripture above all] can adjudge whether a given
position or claim is 'Christian'," but that "it is with reference to
the experimental norm that we can adjudge whether it 'makes
sense'."'*" This confusion, itself making dubious sense, runs through
his Systematic Theology. However, by 1970, in his essay "Christian
Theology and the Scientific Study of Religion," he drops his neo-
orthodoxy altogether and comes down firmly and without con-
fusion or contradiction in favor of an experimentally based and
determined theology.-''^

He perceives that theology cannot be independent, grounded as
it were on an independent historical event, like Jesus. With Troel-
tsch and the mainstream of mature American theology, he knows
that Jesus was relative to his times, "a man shaped by his culture
and by the needs of his own time."^^^ He asks, rhetorically, "by
what right, or on what ground, was any particular event ... or
person to be regarded as ultimately authoritative for man, even
Christian man."^" He concludes that theological method can no
longer be formulated on the basis of God's revelation [i.e., the
Biblical events] . . .; it must now explore, criticize and reconstruct
or reconfirm that basis itself.''^^ The Christian tradition, with its

36. Gordon Kaufmann, Systematic Theology: A Historicist Perspective (New
York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1968), p. 44.

37. Ibid., p. 76.

38. Gordon Kaufmann, God the Problem (Cambridge: Harvard University,
1972), pp. 17-40.

39. Ibid., p. 23.

40. Ibid.

41. Ibid., p. 24.

Bible, becomes then but a contingent, historical "perspective" from
which to "see and understand the emerging contemporary experi-
ence."^2

That the Bible plays a secondary role is obvious, and for our
purposes it is unnecessary to investigate the direction in which
Kaufmann would move, appealing to Tillich, process thought, lin-
guistic philosophy, etc., in order to provide alternative foundations
for theology. Significantly, whereas Barth is the most quoted the-
ologian in his Systematic Theology, he is cited rarely in God the
Problem, with scarcely any exceptions, only to be put down or out
of consideration. While the Systematic Theology has an extensive
index of Biblical passages, God the Problem has none, with few
references to be indexed should he have desired one.

While the mainstream of mature American theology has moved
figuratively if not literally to the university to search scientifically
and systematically for a universal depth dimension of contemporary
experience upon which to establish the necessity and possibility of
theology, there are some dissident theologians who fail to appre-
ciate the universality of this university-established experience, and
instead call attention to the plurality of individual experiences in
contemporary culture. Perhaps most representative of this ap-
proach is Harvey Cox, who protests against the domination of the-
ology based on what I have referred to as "university religion." He
designates it, as well as all traditional religion, "signal religion,"
"religion that is coded, systematized, controlled and distributed by
specialists."*'' In effect, he protests that once theology is under-
stood to arise out of experience, then in a pluralistic society such
as is ours today it is simply arbitrary to attach universal authority
and significance to any particular experience. He advocates a
"radical theology" which somewhat romantically presupposes atten-
tion to "one's own feelings in the midst of a new experience."*"*
In search of a feelingful experience of the new, this middle class
establishment person turns to "the people," in particular the poor
and the new woman with the sensitized consciousness. Theology
becomes the biography or storytelling of the person of the the-
ologian as he or she enters into these new experiences of "the
people." As such, it is not theo-/ogo5, "reflective, analytical, objec-

42. Ibid., p. 22.

43. Harvey Cox, The Seduction of the Spirit (New York: Simon and Shuster,
1973), p. 10.

44. Ibid., p. 148.

tive,"^^ but rather a playful activity . . . endowed with a certain
kind of 'ludic consciousness'."^" It playfully debunks the "magical
authority of sacred texts and the spurious legitimacy of proud rul-
ers." It is a "make-believe" which seeks to involve a form of
"human consciousness which can move from one world to another
without falling to pieces"; i.e., a consciousness that cherishes and
lives through pluralism without compromising it in the compre-
hensive search for the 'really real,' the abstract universal.^'^ Finally,
this theology is "useless," done for its own sake. It celebrates as an
end in itself the pluralism and novelty of personal experience, espe-
cially the experience of the emerging poor and the new "conscien-
tized" woman.^^

Such theology echoes the Biblical corpus in appreciating the
narrative or story form, but its contents, derived wholly from
present individual experience as it is informed by the religion of
"the people," is independent of the Biblical narrative for its dis-
covery or expression. Scripture is unnecessary for this ludic (not to
say ludicrous) "theology," which has authoritative access to deity
in personal experience, the novel experience available in a pluralis-
tic world.

Lest I be charged with scholarly neglect and oversight, I should
say a word concerning a dimension of contemporary theology I
have overlooked viz., the hermeneutical tradition in theology that
has its origins in the work of Rudolf Bultmann. I think, for in-
stance, of the so-called "New Hermeneutic" and the continuing
debate and conversation among Bultmannians, post-Bultmannians,
tangential Bultmannians, etc., etc. However, as far as I am con-
cerned this conversation has become moribund, almost incestuous,
and of little impact anymore on the development of theology in
America. It has become antiseptically academic, long uprooted from
the concrete historical situation that gave rise to it and in which it
found its necessity and significance.

There is a recent theological development, however, which pre-
supposes instead an experience of godlessness and therefore the
necessity, if not the possibility, of a word from God, such as is
found in the Bible. I refer to so-called "liberation theology." The
common denominator in all forms of liberation theology is the

45. Ibid., p. 319.

46. Ibid.

47. Ibid.,p.S2\.

48. See ibid., ch. 11, pp. 288-301.

commitment to enter somehow the world and experience of the
poor and oppressed, the "marginals" of our world, and to partici-
pate in their struggle for liberation. These marginals are those
who do not find God at the depths of their experience, but rather
a Satanic godlessness. They are suspicious of the "God" who is
alleged to lie at the depths of establishment experience, since it is
from the establishment and often in the name of its so-called God
that they experience the oppression and demonic denial that attests
the apparent absence of God. So, while the mainstream looks con-
fidently for God in its situation, the marginals look for a God who
will "liberate" them from their situation, and the situation of their
oppressor which so determines their own situation. Mature Amer-
ican theology looks for God in the world; liberation theology hopes
and so struggles for a new world in God.

A second characteristic of liberation theology follows, viz., a
common recognition of the necessity of social analysis and the use-
fulness, if not the necessity, of a Marxist analysis in particular. The
reason for this emphasis is the justified persuasion that if the God
of establishment experience is the source of marginal suffering and
godlessness, then establishment experience, religion, and theology
are in truth ideological expressions of a godless economic and
political tyranny. Marx focused this ideological appropriation of
religion more sharply than most. Very much aware of Marx's
analysis, Frederick Herzog of the Divinity School of Duke Univer-
sity, a leading North American representative of liberation theology,
therefore understands liberation theology as "ideology criticism."'*^

For my part, the third and decisive aspect of liberation theology
is a consequent and necessary turn to the Biblical revelation of the
transcendent God as revealed in the event of liberation in Jesus
Christ. For a powerless, marginal, oppressed people caught up in
the struggle for their liberation and justice, the Biblical word can
beconie not only viable but necessary. They are open to the vision
of Yahweh as "the God who intervenes in history to destroy the
unjust . . . and to save the oppressed from the injustice which they
suffer and which unfailingly cries out to heaven. "•^'^ In North
America the tradition of liberation theology is just about as old as
the black Christian experience. Its most notable recent expression

49. Frederick Herzog, "Liberation Theology as Ideology Critique," Interpreta-
tion (October, 1974), XXVIII.

50. Jose Porfirio Miranda, Marx and the Bible, trans. John Eagleson (Mary-
knoll: Orbis Books, 1974), p. 96.

is in the works of James Cone, in his Black Theology of Liheratioji
and God of ihe Oppressed.^^ It is the black experience of oppres-
sion that moves the black Christian to be so Jesus-centered and
Biblically rooted. In Jesus the black found and finds the transcen-
dent liberator. As Cone states:

Jesus is the subject of Black Theology because he is the content and the
hopes and dreams of black people. He was chosen by our grandparents,
who saw in his liberating presence that he had chosen them and thus become
the foundation of their struggle for freedom. He was their truth, enabling
them to know that white definitions of black humanity were lies. When
their way became twisted and senseless, they told Jesus about it. He lifted
their burdens and eased their pain, thereby showering upon them a vision
of freedom that transcended historical limitations.52

When the slaves were uprooted from their African past, those
among them who became Christian found their first and truest
story in the Bible, the story of their creation as God's children and
of their promised deliverance in the coming kingdom of Christ.
They were truly a people of the Bible. According to Bishop James
Walker Hood of the A.M.E. Zion Church, "the Holy Bible has
stood as an everlasting rock in the black man's defense. God him-
self has determined that the black man shall not be robbed of his
record. . . ."^^ This radical Biblical quality of black religion and
theology is almost prima facie, as any familiarity with the "Negro
spiritual" will indicate. It scarcely needs further arguing. Where a
people are truly defenseless, then the divine defense, the word of
God, may become both necessary and real.

The dean of Latin American liberation theologians, Gustavo
Gutierrez, understands theological reflection today as "necessarily
... a criticism of society and the Church insofar as they are called
and addressed by the loord of God."^'^ It seeks to become a "critical
theology, worked out in the light of the Word accepted in faith and
inspired by a practical purpose. . . ."^^ Even more explicitly, he

51. A Black Theology of Liberation (Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1970). God of
the Oppressed (New York: Seabury Press, 1975).

52. God of the Oppressed, p. 32. So, in his introduction Cone admits that as
a theologian speaking to the black experience he went "instinctively" to the
scripture (p. 6). The black theologian, the liberation theologian, "is before all
else an exegete, simultaneously of scripture and existence." (p. 8).

53. James Walker Hood, One Hundred Years of the African Methodist Zion
Church (New York: A.M.E. Zion Book Cloncern, 1895), p. 34.

54. (iustavo Gutierrez, A Theology of Liberation, trans. Sister Caridad and
John Eaglcson (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1973), p. 11. (Italics mine).

55. Ibid. (Italics mine).

states that "the biblical message, which presents the work of Christ
as a liberation, provides the framework for this [Gutierrez's] inter-
pretation."^^ Of course, it is only as the word is read in the com-
pany of the oppressed, in participation in their struggle, that the
Bible is faithfully heard. Indeed, "participation in the process of
liberation is an obligatory and privileged focus for Christian life
and reflection. In this participation will be heard nuances of the
Word of God which are imperceptible in other existential situ-
ations and without which there can be no authentic or fruitful
faithfulness to the Lord."^"*"

I find it very significant that liberation theology, despite the
crisis in Biblical theology and its recent demise in the mainstream,
has already produced two Biblical theologies — notably, Frederick
Herzog's Liberation Theology and Jose Porfirio Miranda's Marx and
the Bible. The striking common denominator in both cases, aside
from rather tacit (Herzog) and explicit (Miranda) references to
Marx, and of course, the attention to the Bible, is the stringent
eschewing of apologetics. Attempting as they both do to approach
the Bible and the task of theology from the vantage point of a
people oppressed by the present powers of the world and in a
struggle for a new world, they understandably neither owe nor can
offer any justification or apology to that old order. Herzog's task
is not to answer to the world, but to undertake "an exercise in the
discipline of a new listening" to the word and then to witness its
promise of a new world. ■''*^ Miranda, observing that "we have had
more than enough apologetics in recent centuries," declares that
he is "not attempting to prove anything," but rather only wishes
"to understand what the Bible says."^''"

The reference to the North American, Herzog, brings to mind
the significant and growing North American theological movement
referred to as the theology of women's liberation. At this present
juncture, the theology of this movement is less easy to characterize.
In the case of Mary Daly, for instance, it is more of an anti-Church
theology movement, and her writings are, as she herself claims,
"philosophical." She writes not as a powerless marginal, but as a
member of the powerful other half of our society. Her confidence
and hope, therefore, are not in a transcendent deity and the liberat-

56. Ibid., p. 35.

57. Ibid., p. 47.

58. Frederick Herzog, Liberation Theology: Liberation in the Light of the
Fourth Gospel, (New York: Seabury Press, 1971), p. 26.

59. Miranda, p. 35.

ing event of Jesus Christ, but in the untapped power of woman-
hood. Her task, she writes, "is to study the potential of the women's
revolution to transform human consciousness . . . that is, to generate
human becoming."^** Rather than God's bringing liberation to
women and so to all who are oppressed, it is the rising consciousness
of women that "has the power to turn attention around from the
projections of our culture [false male projections] to the radically
threatened human condition. "*^i In other words, "in the very pro-
cess of becoming actual persons, of confronting the non-being of
our situation, women are bearers of history. "''^

On the other end of the spectrum is, for instance, Letty Russell,
who stands responsibly within the tradition of theology as well as
within the experience and oppression of women. She is able to
identify with Paul's awareness that the whole creation groans in
travail, awaiting not, as in the case of Mary Daly, women's rising
consciousness, but God's raising up of women and men, all creation,
in Jesus Christ.^^ Certainly there is in the theology of Letty Rus-
sell a new interest in scripture as a possible source and norm of
theology, although one does not sense here the radical need re-
flected in both black and Latin American liberation theology. Dr.
Russell evidences a good deal of confidence in the life experiences
of women and the potential of their immanent power. ^* This equi-
vocation is even more apparent in Rosemary Ruether, who occa-
sionally suggests that it is not so much the case that women and
the oppressed need the liberating Biblical word as that the word
itself is in need of the liberating word of women to deliver it from
the debilitating sexism that has enthralled it almost from the begin-
ning.^^

In conclusion, it cannot be said that all theology that calls itself
"liberation theology" is Biblical — i.e., radically dependent upon
the Bible for its word and power. It can be said, however, that
there is a strong current in this "new" theology which is distin-
guished from all other forms of contemporary theology precisely by
its fundamental dependence upon the Bible.

60. Mary Daly, Beyond God the FaDier: Toward a Philosophy of Women's
Liberation (Garden City: Doubleday, 1967), p. 6.

61. Ibid.,p.3S.

62. Ibid.

63. See Letty Russell, Human Liberation in a Feminist Perspective — A
Theology (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1974), pp 33ff.

64. Ibid., p. 53.

65. See "Women's Liberation and the Church (New York: Association, 1970),
pp. 32, 35f.

Biblical Missiology and Mission

by Creighton Lacy

Professor of World Christianity

It is ironical that missiology ("the scholarly study of . . . the
missionai7 dimension of the Christian church") is "coming into its
own" just when missions (the active outreach of the Gospel in wit-
ness and service) seems to be on the decline. It is also ironical that
missiology as a discipline, as a systematic program of research and
analysis, should be lifted out of academe and out of exclusive
Roman Catholic terminology not by narrowing ranks of traditional
Protestant scholars, but by the Evangelicals.

The American Society of Missiology, inaugurated officially in
1973, emerged from the Association of Professors of Missions be-
cause of growing interest among missionaries, mission executives,
and teachers — from both the Roman Catholic and the consei^ative
wings of the Church — who were not technically eligible for mem-
bership in the A.P.M. Its current president is a priest of the
Society of the Divine Word. Its modest but articulate little quar-
terly, Missiology ($8 per year), is edited and published from (not
exclusively by) the circle of specialists around the School of World
Mission at Fuller Theological Seminary. It is an exciting and
stimulating constellation.

More surprising, for those still laboring under ancient stereo-
types, conservative Evangelicals (to use an imprecise generic label)
are predominantly responsible for developing missiology as a sci-
ence. Their mission centers in Pasadena and elsewhere bulge with
the latest coniputer equipment and statistical surveys. Missiology
(the magazine) "continues," not replaces, Practical Anthropology,
and many of its articles describe field data collected with profes-
sional efficiency. Whatever the Biblical assumptions and evangel-
istic goals these modern missiologists hold, their methods are no
longer limited to pious but uninformed proclamation or manipula-
tion. In sensitivity to cultural and psychological traditions (if not
always to social and political change) they are putting most of us
"main-line" teachers of missions to shame.

Whether missions itself — as a movement, not simply individual
projects — is on the wane local congregations and world denomina-

dons will have to determine for themselves. The overseas person-
nel of the United Methodist Board of Global Ministries did not
reach the lowest figure anticipated a year ago. In addition to un-
precedented response to the hunger crisis, sacrificially committed
church members rallied to support the World Division program
and to meet the accelerating costs of global inflation. Simultan-
eously Christian leaders in many nations flatly rejected the call for
a "moratorium" on Western missionaries (and Western funds!),
while continuing to affirm the need for greater self-detemiination
in every area.

Yet no one can deny that the missionary enterprise is at present
in one of the ebb tides so clearly traced by Kenneth Scott Latour-
ette. A wave of neo-isolationism, disillusioned by Vietnam or
fearful of Angola, reverses much of our historic interest in "foreign"
people and places — at the very time when energy shortages, ecology,
and economy demonstrate more clearly than ever before our global
interdependence. Churches which still schedule annual "mission
studies" are rare enough to be noteworthy. "Missionary rallies"
attract only the faithful few. College and seminary enrollments in
international courses, even on foreign policy or world religions,
have dropped conspicuously in recent years. Christians in the pews,
as well as critics in the press, voice doubts about "imposing" our
(religious) values on other people, though we measure their worthi-
ness by our (political) standards.

By and large we do not want to get "involved" — though we are
still ready to contribute generously in order to buy national security
or eternal salvation. And we do it by conscripting and debasing
the term missions. Military missions — the $9.5 billion U.S. arms
exports in 1975 represented 51 per cent of international military
sales, as compared to 27 per cent by the Soviet Union. Trade
missions — to explore where to drill for oil and whom to bribe.
Diplomatic missions — casting a respectable aura over undiplomatic
behavior. CIA missions — in competition with the most incredible
James Bond exploits. Preaching missions — long on haranguing and
short on listening.

When someone once asked Mahatma Gandhi what was the
greatest obstacle to Christianity in India, his reply was short and
simple: "Christians." So the problem of missions today may lie
within the Christian Church — at home as well as abroad. State-
ments like the following emanate not from board headquarters, but
from bored congregations who have never been challenged by the
missionary imperative: "Charity begins at home; we must look after

our own." "Why do they have to fight for independence? Revoki-
tion is too violent; it's un-Christian." "Sure, the church is good
for the wife and kids, but those coloreds are happier the way they've
always lived." "I believe in ecumenicity, but church union would
wipe out 600,000 Methodists from North India." "As a Baptist
deacon told William Carey, if God wants to save the heathen, He
can do it without your help or mine."

In various churches — not only the United Methodist — critics are
insinuating that missions have been undermined by a lack of "Scrip-
tural Christianity." That charge is unfair and untrue. A careful
scrutiny of denominational and ecumenical statements, an open
hearing of sermons and speeches by church leaders, reveals no
abandonment of the Biblical basis for the Christian world mission.
A "declaration" adopted by the Board of Missions in 1971 begins:

The imperative of the World Division is to communicate the Good News
of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior of all people and societies. Persons and
communities must have the opportunity to hear about Jesus Christ, to study
the meaning of the Christ event for themselves and their world, and to
respond in the commitment of faith and action to Him.

At the World Council Assembly in Nairobi in December, 1975, the
first — and most popular! — discussion group was on "Confessing
Christ Today." Among numerous "Recommendations to the
Churches" that Section urged: ". . . that regional or local clusters
of churches engage in reflections based on Bible study and common
experience, on the common content of their faith. . . ."

It also proposed "that the churches . . . study . . . processes of
communication applicable to matters of faith and the interpreta-
tion of Scriptures, and that they give special attention to the ques-
tion as to how their own interpretation of the Bible is culturally
conditioned." There lies the crux of the issue. Modern missiology
has not discarded Scriptural Christianity. It has recognized that
Christ's mission to a world in revolutionary change requires fresh
interpretation, fresh application, even fresh selection of Biblical
texts — not simply new computers, scholarly anthropology, or even
warm evangelistic hearts.

For hundreds of years, hundreds of thousands of missionaries —
and millions of devout churchgoers supporting them — have been
inspired by the Great Commission, usually quoted from the Ariston
ending of Mark: "Go into all the world and preach the gospel to
the whole creation." (Mk. 16:15) Despite the textual problems
with this passage, and the anachronistic Trinitarian formula in
Mt. 28:18-20, the parallel verses in Lk. 24:45-49 and Acts 1:7-8,

plus the repeated admonition to Peter in Jn. 21:15-17, leave no
room for doubt about Jesus' final commandment. Would that the
Church had been as clear in its obedience!

Yet disagreements over "translating," "exegeting" and "apply-
ing" the Great Commissions are no merely modern phenomena.
Faithful Protestants are often disillusioned to learn that the Great
Reformers tended to ignore or to discount the missionary mandate.
Martin Luther declared that after the apostles "no one has any
longer such a universal apostolic command."^ Either the directive
was intended only for the original disciples, or it had been suffi-
ciently fulfilled by earlier missionary witness. According to Richey
Hogg of Perkins School of Theology, "the overwhelming and well-
nigh unanimous evidence points in the Reformers to no recogni-
tion of the missionary dimension of the Church."- To be sure,
there were contemporaneous explanations — political, financial,
geographic, ecclesiological, theological — but we are concerned here
only with the apparent neglect of Scriptural authority.

Today the distorted — and un-Christlike — debate about evan-
gelism versus service might easily rest on the question whether
"making disciples" means primarily "baptizing them in the name
of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit" or "teaching
them to observe all that I have commanded you." Obviously it
involves both: faith and ethics, sacrament and practice. Most
missionaries have been less "hung up" over priorities and emphasis
than "armchair strategists" (or "back-pew drivers"). No one who
professes to be a Christian can escape the categorical imperative
of the Great Commission. No one in responsible mission adminis-
tration or missiology has any desire to do so. But at the end of
the second Christian millenium, in a world increasingly secularis-
tic and pluralistic, the Gospel must be interpreted and expressed
in ways that are both meaningful to contemporary cultures and
faithful to the eternal Christ.

The remainder of this article, therefore, will seek to outline,
to suggest, to illustrate— but not to deUneate comprehensively —
three areas in which a broader Biblical base is currently being em-
ployed to define and undergird the Christian world mission. The

1. Quoted in Gustav VVarneck, Outline of a History of Protestant Missions
from the Refor>nation to the Present Time (Edinburgh: Oliphant, Anderson &
Ferrier, 19U1), pp. 14-15.

2. "The Rise of Protestant Missionary Concern, 15 17- 1914,'" in Gerald H.
Anderson, ed., I'he Theology of the Cliristian Mission (New Yorlc: McGraw-Hill,
1961), p. 99.

first — most ancient and most obvious — is the witness of service al-
ready mentioned. The second is the universal presence of Christ,
The third is the eschatological promise, the assurance that "creation
itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the
glorious liberty of the children of God." (Rom. 8:21)

Witness through Service
Jesus came teaching and healing, feeding the multitudes and
liberating individuals from sin. The Carpenter who preached and
died and rose again also distributed loaves and fishes on the hill-
side, along the Galilean lake, in an upper room, at an inn on the
Emmaus road. The Bread of Life is physical and spiritual. Be-
cause of this indisputable fact, Christ's own example, the Church
has always recognized — if not always fulfilled — the call to educa-
tional, medical, and relief missions as a corollary of evangelism.
Replying to his own question, "Is the Medical Missionary Obso-
lete?", Kenneth Strachan, a leading spokesman for conservative
Evangelicals, has declared: "It becomes all the more important for
true Christians to do good, to feed the hungry, to minister to the
sick, without any other purpose than to express the compassion
within them."2

From the earliest days of missions, feeding the hungry has in-
volved agricultural services, improved seeds and livestock and ferti-
lizer and scientific methods, as well as food "hand-outs." Most
Christians have agreed that healing the sick includes preventive
medicine, public health, nutrition, and sanitation. It becomes less
obvious — to some people — that Jesus' concern for the deprived and
oppressed is to be imitated in literal, material, political terms. The
poor who inherit the Kingdom and the hungry who shall be satis-
fied (Lk. 6:20-21) are "spiritualized" in Mt. 5:3 & 6. It is far
easier for us in the comfortable pew to mythologize away I Samuel
— or even Mary — when we read: "He has put down the mighty
from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree; he has filled
the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away."
(Lk. 1:52-53)

Did Jesus refer only to some celestial Kingdom "in the sweet by
and by" when he proclaimed his mission in Nazareth (Lk. 4:18-19)?
If the good news were only the message of spiritual salvation, of
God's love and forgiveness, why specifically — or even exclusively —

3. Missionary Mandate (Chicago: Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship, Dec.
1959-Jan. I960).

"to the poor"? Does the Incarnation mean so httle, is our world
view so Docetic, that we can allegorize the promise of "liberty to
those who are oppressed" without regard to political or economic
or social realities? From the Exodus out of Egypt, through innum-
erable "wars of liberation" in the Old Testament, right down to
the fall of Babylon (and of "the merchants. of the earth"!) in Rev-
elation, God is at work actively and sometimes violently to create
justice on the earth. Are we absolutely certain that "all who take
the sword will perish by the sword" (Mt. 26:52) was meant literally,
while "I have not come to bring peace but a sword" (Mt. 10:34)
was strictly metaphorical? Exegetically I like to believe so, but
how, hermeneutically, do we celebrate Revolution in America 1776
and condemn Revolution in Rhodesia 1976?

These passages, too, represent Scriptural Christianity. All of
us — preachers and theologians, teachers and missionaries — seek to
proclaim the whole Gospel for the whole person in the whole world.
We should not be surprised — in any age, especially this one — if the
people of God emphasize other Biblical imperatives than those we
select and interpret them in different ways for different cultural
contexts. To be sure, "the Kingdom of God does not mean food
and drink but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit"
(Rom. 14:17). Yet the Master himself, in a far more central portion
of his teachings, asserted that those who fed the hungry, visited the
sick and imprisoned, not only did it unto him but will enter into
eternal life. (Mt. 25:31-46) "Let your light so shine before men
that they will see your good works and give gloi"y [not to you or
me, to a denomination or a creed, not even primarily to Christ, but]
to your Father who is in heaven." (Mt. 5:16)

Orlando E. Costas, one of the most stimulating of contemporary
missiologists, discusses from a Latin American perspective "the
question of humanization as an integral part of the missionary
enterprise . . . Humanization, understood in its biblical perspec-
tive is not a mere indirect result of Christ's saving action. It is at
the heart of Christ's redemptive activity."^ This does not mean
that humanitarian service should replace evangelism — or that it is
doing so amid our multitudinous global ministries. It does mean
that such service — in meeting indescribable human need, in com-
batting unimaginable injustice and inhumanity — has equally bona
fide Biblical authority, and therefore should be seen as an essential

4. Orlando E. Costas, The Church and Its Missions: a Shattering Critique
from the Third Worhl (Wluaton, III.: Tyiulalc House, l'J74), pp. 175^ & 195.

aspect of our Christian witness, not a secondary or derivative obli-
gation. Writing as an Evangelical, Costas continues: "If the Gospel
is truly eternally contemporaneous, it must speak concretely to
each new situation. This, I repeat, is not a mere question of appli-
cation. It is a matter of the nature of the gospel itself. . . ."^

The Christian Presence
With rare but noteworthy exceptions, Christians have carried
out their mission through twenty centuries not only in an advocacy
role but as an adversary, vigorously condemning the ignorance,
idolatry, and sin of heathen religions.'' In varying degrees they have
insisted that there is no salvation outside the Church — or (a very
vital distinction!) no salvation outside of Christ. For example:
"Elements of a primitive revelation may be found in all of these
non-Christian religions. But they are so marred and defaced that
no one can find salvation in and through them. ... At best, then,
all non-Christian religions are counterfeits of the one true faith. '"^
Such people have been puzzled when a legendary village elder,
variously located from China to Africa, finally understands that
baptism will in the traditional view separate him eternally from
his revered ancestors and therefore chooses his pagan loyalties.

There is good Scriptural justification for this position. "I am
the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father,
but by me." (Jn. 14:6) "No other foundation can anyone lay than
that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ." (I Cor. 3:11) "There is
no other name under heaven given among men by which we must
be saved." (Acts 4:12) Hopefully we have laid aside the unloving,
sometimes coercive, clearly un-Christlike attitudes with which, too
often, we have proclaimed an exclusive soteriology. We are mildly
concerned about where to assign the men and women of the Old
Testament as well as such modern "saints" as Mahatma Gandhi.
We know— in theory at least— that luc are neither the final judges
nor the intrinsic, efficient cause of another's salvation.

Missionaries and missiologists wrestle with this problem today,
in terms of theology and policy. As faithful to the Biblical com-
mission as any of their predecessors, they know that there are other

5. Ibid., p. 192.

6. "Heathen" and "pagan" are used herein not in a derogatory, discrimina-
tory sense, but in the original meaning of those who are outside the "household
of faith."

7. Harold Lindsell, "Fundamentals for a Philosophy of the Christian Mis-
sion," in Anderson, op. cit., p. 247.

passages (often in the very same books) that suggest other perspec-
tives and other truths. "The true light that enhghtens every man
was coming into the world." (Jn. 1:9) "In past generations he
allowed all the nations to walk in their own ways; yet he did not
leave himself without witness." (."Xcts 14:16-17) "He will render
to every man according to his works . . . glory and honor and
peace for every one who does good, the Jew first and also the Greek.
For God shows no partiality." (Rom. 2:6-11) "Not every one who
says to me, 'Lord, Lord/ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but
he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven." (Mt. 7:21)
And many more!

This is not the place to renew the debate. Karl Barth, for all
of his insistence on the unique Revelation of God in Christ, ac-
knowledged that it "concerns the whole world . . . concerns all
men . . . has imjninted itself upon the nature and history of the
world in quite definite forms, and this it does ever anew."'^ Hen-
drik Kraemer, asserting the radical discontinuity between revela-
tion and all religion (including Christianity), speaks repeatedly of
"tokens" of revelation, God "shining through" other religions,
even "revealing himself," and of "acceptable [to whom?] men of
faith who live under the sway of non-Christian religions. "** Paid
Tillich in the final lecture of his life defined revelation as "a par-
ticular kind of experience Avhich always implies saving powers.
One can never separate revelation and salvation . . . Revelation is
received by man in terms of his finite human situation. "i" Vatican
II pledges Roman Catholics to "acknowledge, preserve, and promote
the spiritual and moral goods found among these men, as well as
the values in their society and culture. "^^

From there it is only a short step for the C^ouncil, in no sense
retracting its faith that "the Church includes within herself the
totality or fullness of the means of salvation,"'- to speak also of

8. Revelation (London: Baillie & Martin, 1937), p. 63.

9. Cited by H. H. Farmer, "The Authority of the Faith," in The Authority
of the Faith (New York: International Missionary Council, 1939), Madras Series,
Vol. I, p. 157.

10. Paul Tillich, "The Significance of the History of Religions for tlie Syste-
matic Theologian," in The Future of Religiojis (New York: Harper & Row, 1966),
p. 81.

11. "Nostra Aetate" (Declaration on the Relationship ol the C:hurch to Non-
Christian Religions), in Walter M. Abbott, ed., Docuiik nls of I'ntican II (New
York: Tlie America I'ress, 1966), p. 663.

12. "Ad Gentes" (Decree on the Missionary Activity of the Church), ibid.,
p. .590.

"whatever truth and grace are to be found among the nations, as
as a sort ot secret presence of God . . . And so, whatever good is to
be sown in the hearts and minds of men, or in the rites and cuhures
pecuHar to various peoples, is not lost.''^^ In the second century
Justin Martyr in his Apologies declared: "We have shown that
Christ is the Logos of whom the whole human race are partakers;
and those who lived [in harmony with or in obedience to the Logos]
are Christians even though associated atheists. "^^ (Notice that
Justin stressed living according to the Word, not affirming a creed
or a particular interpretation thereof.)

Many Protestants are seeking to express the same conviction in
different terminology. "We do not take Christ to the heathen, to
pagan societies; he is already there. The mission, therefore, is to
help people — in distant nations or in our own! — to recognize him
as Lord and Savior." If Jesus came "not to abolish [the law and the
prophets of Israel] but to fulfill them" (Mt. 5:17), why not also
the scriptures and traditions of Hinduism or Buddhism?

When Gentiles who have not the law do bv nature what the law requires,
they are a law to themselves, even though they do not have the law. They
show that what the law requires is written on their hearts, while their
conscience also bears witness and their conflicting thoughts accuse or per-
haps excuse them on that day when, according to my gospel, God judges
the secrets of men by Christ Jesus. (Rom. 2:14-16)

This doctrine of "the unknown Christ" (Raymond Panikkar) or
"the anonymous Christian" (Karl Rahner)i^ has great appeal for
those who believe in the universality of the Gospel. But it has two
obvious difficulties which can only be suggested here without elab-
oration. If we truly mean to assert that all those who do not ac-
knowledge Christ, who may not even have heard of him, are never-
theless dependent on him for libration from sin and death, then
we are being at least as imperialistic, as condescending, as our
ancestors who demanded overt coversion as the sign of salvation.
How would we feel to be told that we are crypto-Communists if we
happen to believe in a juster distribution of the world's goods or
in the dialectic process of history?

13. Ibid., pp. 595-6.

14. Quoted by A. C. Bouquet, "Revelation and the Divine Logos," in And-
erson, op. cit., p. 190.

13. Karl Rahner touches on this concept in many of his writings; see Anita
Roper, The Anonymous Christian (New York: Sheed X: Ward, 1966); also Ray-
mond Panikkar, The Unknown Christ of Hinduism (London; Darton Longman
& Todd, 1964).

A second reservation about this notion of the "hidden Christ"
is more critical. To hold that pagans are "saved by Christ," with-
out knowledge or conscious commitment, is to ignore the most
central and most distinctive element in the entire Gospel: the In-
carnation. We may — should! — agree that all persons are children
of Almighty God and that in his infinite wisdom and love he has
plans for their redemption. Radical monotheism demands no less
a faith. 1^ But if we are to claim the appelation of "Christian," we
must affirm — with whatever diverse understanding — that God came
into the world in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. "As one man's
trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one man's act of
righteousness leads to acquittal and life for all men." (Rom. 5:18)
"God was in Christ." (II Cor. 5:19) Amen! Hallelujah! But if
that means merely an anonymous, universal Spirit, transforming
not only our earthly lives but our ultimate destinies by "tokens"
of truth and morality, we have exchanged the Incarnation for a
unitarian Christology — which the Hindu may justifiably call Brah-
man or the Buddhist Maitreya or the Muslim Allah.

Without resolving the theological — and Biblical! — inconsisten-
cies, it is possible to argue — from practical expediency or meta-
physical conviction, from Christian love or human brotherhood —
that persons in mission must be sensitive and receptive to truths
and values and ethical standards and devotional experiences in
other faiths as well as in our own. This calls for constant redis-
covery and study of the infinite variety of riches in the sacred
Scriptures. Like the men of Athens, the men and women of Cal-
cutta and Bangkok and Nairobi and Cochabamba may be very reli-
gious, j>erhaps more religious than those of New York and Durham.
"What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you."
(Acts 17:23)

The Eschatological Promise

If one focus of missiology today is humanitarian service as an
indispensable aspect of witness, not simply a by-product of evange-
lism, and another is "natural theology" based on universal revela-
tion, a third focus is eschatological. Not only God's sovereignty, not
only his concern for human history, but his ultimate redemption is
intended for all creation. This is not imiversalistic soteriology; it
does not necessarily claim that all God's creatures will accept the

16. Cf. H. Richard Niebuhr, Radical Monoiheism and Western Culture (New
York: Harper & Brothers, 1960).

promises and premises of the Kingdom. But it does see the divine
plan and purpose as inclusive rather than exclusive, as unifying
rather than divisive, as liberating rather than restrictive.

This emphasis has found brilliant — and controversial — expres-
sion in the writings of Teilhard de Chardin, Jean Danielou, and
other Roman Catholics. Their theory of "cosmic revelation" rests
partially, though not entirely, on a scientific, naturalistic world
view, but one which they trace unhesitantly to the Apostle Paul:

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in travail together
until now . . . For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of
the sons of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own
will but by the will of him who subjected it in hope; because the creation
itself will he set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious
liberty of the children of God. (Rom. 8:22, 19-21, italics added.)

The mission, then, is to proclaim this universal promise, to demon-
strate, to facilitate, to expedite that fulfillment. "For in him [Christ]
all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to
reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven,
making peace by the blood of his cross." (Col. 1:19-20)

In Protestant circles Jurgen Moltmann's theology of hope leans,
despite the concept of realized eschatology, toward the futuristic
dimension of salvation. ^^ Most forms of liberation theology, on the
other hand, stress God's concern for the incorporation of the op-
pressed into a present kingdom of justice and freedom. For some
Evangelicals the Church's world mission is a precondition for the
eschaton: 'This gospel of the kingdom will be preached through-
out the whole world, as a testimony to all nations; and then the
end will come." (Mt. 24:14) But let us not forget that Jesus' par-
ables of the Last Judgment, in the very next chapter of Matthew's
Gospel, reiterate the criteria of loving service rather than creed or
ritual. Or that the Lukan parables of the Kingdom harshly slam
the door on those who self-righteously trust in piety instead of
obedience: "Go out quickly to the streets and lanes of the city, and
bring in the poor and maimed and blind and lame . . . For I tell
you, none of those men who were invited shall taste my banquet."
(Lk. 14:21, 24) "And men will come from east and west, and from
north and south, and sit at table in the kingdom of God. And
behold, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will
be last." (Lk. 13:29-30)

17. Cf. Costas, op. cit., pp. 230-231 et passim.

These few citations, among many which might have been chosen,
are not intended to resolve the theological questions inherent in
them — or even to uphold the author's own predilections, although
those may be obvious. Nor is this hop-skip-and-jump through sam-
ple proof texts intended to replace the Great Commissions. "These
[justice and mercy and faith] you ought to have done without neg-
lecting the others." (Mt. 23:23) For me, personally and profession-
ally, there is no more irresistible evangelistic call — and promise! —
in the entire New Testament than Acts 1:8: "You shall receive
power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be
my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria and to the
end of the earth." (Meaning, as many have pointed out, local, na-
tional, cross-cultural, and international missions!) Yon shall be
my witnesses. Not someone whom you pay to represent you in
Sarawak or Zimbabwe. "All this is from God, who through Christ
reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation;
that is, God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, not
counting their trespasses against thetn, and entrusting to m5 the
message of reconciliation. So we are ambassadors for Christ, God
making his appeal through its." (2 Cor. 5:18-20a, italics added.)

But when one asks the next question, Hoxo should we witness?,
I turn again to that too-familiar, too-simple, too-demanding account
of the Last Judgment: "I was hungry and you gave me food, I
was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you wel-
comed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you
visited me, I was in jjrison and you came to me." (Mat. 25:35-36)
Clearly this too is Scriptural Christianity.

The Conference on World Mission and Evangelism said in Bang-
kok in 1973: "We are at the end of a missionary era; we are at
the very beginning of world mission." That task of witness, on
which the Church's very existence depends, "just as a fire exists by
burning" (to quote Emil Brunner),'" requires new methods, new
technology, new attitudes, new anthropology, new conunitment on
the part of every Christian. Missiology as a new/ old discipline can
and must rest on Bil)lical foundations which inform all other as-
pects of the Church's activity — but a Scripture which is read more
openly and applied more broadly to the life of the world.

18. The Word and the World (London: SCM Press, 1931), p. 108.

Early Christian Variations
on the Parable of the Lost Sheep

by Robert C. Gregg

Assistant Professor of Pntristics and Medieval Church History

We enter the world of the earliest Christian preachers and
writers at some considerable risk. The terrain is foreign; many
of the names are conspiracies against the tongue; riddles and
obscure clues lurk in the language; and the issues for which people
live, battle, and die bewilder the modern mind. To our eyes, those
are mysterious energies which run through the thoughts, prayers,
sermons, and disputes of ancient believers. Every piece of art,
every surviving liturgy, and every written trace of theological war-
fare underline the fact that first generations of Christians entered
the rhythms of religion in ways which catch us by surprise. Our
past is richer and much less predictable than we suspect.

One way to part the curtains on this unfamiliar world of an-
cestors is to watch them at work on a familiar text like the parable
of the lost sheep (Lk. 15:.S-7). But there is so much to be mis-
understood in a venture of this kind that some words of caution
may be necessary. The first has to do with the nearly unimaginable
circumstances in which early Christians sought to understand and
proclaim their faith: the foundations were not in place. No broad
agreement existed about the nature of God or the purposes of
divine activity. Different people and groups of people experienced
their savior and salvation differently. It might have been possible
to settle these fundamental questions by turning to the sacred writ-
ings, but there was no consensus about what could be called "the
Bible." In some quarters, "the Law and the Prophets" were thought
dispensable, and in all quarters it was necessary to negotiate which
"memoirs" and letters of the apostles would take their place among
the charter documents of the Christian community. When a third-
century Christian thinker accepted his pagan opponent's label of
Christianity as a "new thing," he was not innocent of the elements
of ferment and change in the religion he defended.^

1. Origen Against Celsus 8.41-47.

The second word of caution concerns our own historical pro-
vincialism. New understandings of the Bible made possible by
modern critical study are both impressive and welcome. If, how-
ever, the assumptions and axioms which we bring to the contempo-
rary task of Biblical interpretation make it impossible to appreci-
ate how people in another age asked "What does the text mean?",
our new-found shrewdness will have put us in blinders. A way of
understanding the New Testament, for example, which illuminates
two periods of time — Jesus' Sitz and our own — but leaves the inter-
vening centuries in shadows might serve to alert us to the limita-
tions of our methods and hermeneutic. At any rate, a sense of the
transient character of our own presuppositions and rules of Biblical
interpretation may make us pause before we brand early Christian
(or Medieval or Reformation) treatment of Scripture "exotic" or
"bizarre."

In Luke's gospel, it is the Pharisees' complaint that Jesus "re-
ceives sinners and eats with them" which prompts his parable-
opening question: Is there anyone among you who would not search
out one sheep lost from his flock of a hundred? Who would not
rejoice, and summon others to share in the rejoicing, at the sheep's
recovery? Joy like that, Jesus claims, will be in heaven over the
recovery of one repentant sinner — it will surpass the joy over the
ninety-nine righteous who do not need to repent.- The two succeed-
ing parables of the lost coin and the prodigal son sound the same
notes of celebration. What was lost has been recovered. Rejoice!
In comparison with many other New Testament parables and simili-
tudes, Lk. 15:3-7 is clear and uncomplicated. The evangelist em-
ploys it (and tlie remaining parables of chapter 15) to explain and
defend the ministry of Jesus (and the Church) to unworthy "strays,"
and to represent that ministry as the promise of joy which belongs
to God's own approaching reign.

This paper concerns itself with what became of this simple
story when writers of the next few centuries pondered it, and used
it to make sense of their own particular experiences of Christian
faith. What meaning did the story of the lost sheep hold for (1)
those groups of Christians in the second century who claimed to

2. Tlie parallel in Mt. IS.lOff. is addressed to the disciples and appears as
one of tlie responses to their question, "Who is the greatest in the kingiloni of
heaven?" In this context the parable is about the importance of the "litlle
ones" to the heavenly Father. Cf. the form of the saying in the Coptic Gospel of
Thomas, logion 107, in which the shepherd exerts himself for the stray sheep,
"the largest," because he loves it more than the ninety-nine.

possess secret, saving gnosis: for (2) their opponents, Irenaeus,
Bishop of Lyons, and Origen, the Alexandrian Biblical expert and
theologian of the third century; and for (3) Tertullian, the fiery
African writer who was the Church's most fervent advocate and its
severest critic?

I. Lost "in the midst of all kinds of suffering . . ."

One of the first people to make theological use of the story of
the lost sheep was also one of the wildest figures to stride through
the early years of the Christian movement. At least that is how
Simon Magus is portrayed by scoffing detractors, who view him as
the source of all heresies, the instigator of that irreligion which
boasts of a saving gnosis.^ Possibly an account of Simon's life and
teaching composed by one of his devotees (apparently they were
numerous) would show us a less outlandish and improbable re-
vealer and wonder-worker. But it is also conceivable that it was
precisely his extravagant claims and behavior which attracted dis-
ciples. Who would not have wanted to learn more about someone
who taught that he had appeared as Father among the Samaritans,
Son among the Jews, and Holy Spirit to the rest of the nation?!

It was Simon's co-worker and companion, Helen, who earned
him the most notoriety with his "catholic" Christian opponents.
For Simon, however, she was no embarrassment — indeed, her role
in his theology and mission was of central importance. When,
sometime in the first century, Simon ended Helen's career as a
prostitute in Tyre by purchasing her out of slavery, he viewed the
transaction not merely as one of human compassion (his enemies
suspected his motive was passion), but as a saving event of cosmic
significance. Helen, he and his followers believed, was the precious
lost sheep of the Gospel, at long last reclaimed by the "Supreme
Father" (who in his current worldly manifestation was Simon the
Samaritan). For those possessing the religious insight which sees
beyond bare historical happenings, the ransoming of Helen was
the climax of a long and tragic divine drama. In the beginning,
the Father over all things had generated an initial Thought or In-
tent {Ey-inoia, a feminine word in Greek), by whom he planned to
fashion angels and archangels. But Thought took matters into her
own hands, formed these (imperfect) angelic beings, who in turn
created the visible creation, a place of bad design, filled with fear
and jealousy. The angels prevented the return of Thought to her

3. Irenaeus Against Heresies 1.23.2.

Father, having learned rebellion from her, and they conspired to
hold her captive in the world, "confined ... in the bonds of
flesh. "^ We are told that "she, passing from body to body, and
suffering insults in every one of them, at last became a common
prostitute."'' The rest of the story nearly tells itself, at least to
those capable of perceiving mysteries: the Father's rescue mission
made it necessary for him to assume the form of a man (hence his
epiphany in Judaea, where he was thought to have suffered on the
cross, though he was invincible God), and finally to come and re-
deem his daughter from slavery.^ Simon's liberation of the harlot
Helen at Tyre was simultaneously and more profoundly the Su-
preme Father's release of a spiritual being from entrapment in flesh
and a hostile world. In the process this divine rescuer and bringer
of saving wisdom "conferred salvation upon men by making him-
self known to them."^ For believers in Simon's revelation of who
he was and what he had come to do, the recovery of the lost sheep
(Thought/ Helen) signalled their redemption as well. It was the
act of redemption which assured their release and held the promise
that, when the world was dissolved, they would be spared. In the
meantime they were guaranteed their freedom from the malevolent
and misguided powers who created the material world. ^ A remark
by Irenaeus contains a hint of how this gnostic doctrine was regis-
tered by the Simonians; in it one spies (among other things) an
emphasis not unfamiliar to readers of Paul:

. . . those who place their trust in Him and in Helena no longer heed
them [i.e., the angels who dominate this world], but as being free, live as
they please; for men are saved through his grace, and not on account of
their own righteous actions.9

To the chagrin of his critics, Simon used Jesus' parable of the lost
sheep as the primary image of the divine drama he preached —
apparently it lent itself in a striking way to his message about a
God who searches out those lost in an alien world and carries them
heavenward, to their primal home. There is every reason to suppose

4. Tertullian On the Soul 34. (Translations throughout the article, unless
otherwise noted, are taken or adapted from The Ante-Nicene Fathers, edited by
A. Roberts and J. Donaldson, and reissued in 1969 by Wm. B. Eerdmans Co.,
Grand Rapids, Michigan.)

5. Irenaeus Against Heresies 1.23.2.

6. Ibid., 1.23.3. Tcrlullian, at his sardonic best, wonders (in On the Soul
34) whether Helen was carried back on her redeemer's slioulders or thighs!

7. Irenaeus Against Heresies 1.23.3.

8. Tertullian On the Soul 34; Irenaeus Against Heresies 1.23.3.

9. Irenaeus Against Heresies 1.23.3.

that his followers took delight in Simon's version of the parable
because they understood themselves to be included in the celestial
celebration.

"Catholic" theologians regarded Simon's revelation and his
cultus as perversions of Christian truth, and their denunciation
carried the day: the God of Christians did not go by the name of
Simon, nor was he in the business of extricating spirits from a
demon-oppressed and doomed existence on earth. There is,
nevertheless, a trace of irony to be found in moralistic undertones
which are part of the attack directed by right-thinking ("orthodox")
Christians against Helen, the heavenly Thought tumbled into ill-
repute. Recollection of the Pharisaic alarm to which Jesus' par-
able of the lost sheep was the answer suggests that there is at least
this to say on behalf of Simon's religious imagination: he was un-
afraid to preach a divine compassion (though it was not open to
all: the unillumined were unsaved) which extended the search for
strays even as far as a brothel in Tyre.

Not all systems of gnostic Christianity were vulnerable to the
same critique waged against the flamboyant Simon. Most propo-
nents of salvation through gnosis preached a similar message of
emancipation from flesh and world to enthusiastic congregations
of the "Spiritual" and "Perfect," but they did so without making
themselves into deities. Knowledge of the story and structure of
the cosmos, according to teachers like Valentinus and Basilides,
explained why earthlings live in fear and estrangement. More im-
portantly, it delivered souls from their existence in the world as
displaced persons, and gave them access to the original home in
the company of deity, in the place of "Fullness" (Plerorna). In
some quarters of the Mediterranean world to which Christianity
spread in the second century, this gospel had won the allegiance
of the majority of Christians.^ **

Among these believers, too, the story of the lost sheep served
as a vehicle for recounting the celestial accident which produced
the prison of souls, the created order. A gnostic group known as
the Marcosians, much given to number symbolism, told of a primal
disturbance in the ranks of spiritual beings, the Aeons, and the
exclusion of one of these beings from the divine region: "because
an error occurred in connection with the twelfth number, the sheep
frisked off, and went astray.''^^ From a fuller description of the

10. See Walter Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity (ET,
Philadelphia: Fortress, 1971), chs. 1-2.

same scenario found in the doctrine of a follower of Valentinus we
learn who the culprit Aeon was. Sophia, whose attempt to conceive
the nature of the invisible "Forefather" failed, produced an abor-
tion-misconception unworthy of the presence of those beings dwell-
ing in the upper region. This flawed and unfulfilled desire, which
went by the name of Achamoth, was placed outside the boundaries
which marked off divine Fullness [Pleroma), and in time produced
the Demiurge, creator of earth and its seven heavens. Totally un-
aware of his own lowly status, this sub-deity, according to Valen-
tinJan dogma, was the creator God of the Old Testament. His
worshippers called him Lord, Jehovah, Almighty; he was in fact
the low-ranking keeper of the dungeon of souls. To the possessor
of knowledge, this tragic tale made plain how the material universe
became what it is now — a place of ignorance, fear, and grief. It
also revealed the existence of the God above the Demiurge, to
whom one might flee from captivity in flesh and history. Irenaeus
provides us with some glimpses of the Valentinian interpretation
of Lk. 15:3-7:

They explain that the lost sheep must leprtsent the mother from whom the
Church here is said to have been sown. The wandering is her stay in the
midst of all kinds of suffering outside the Pleroma, from which matter, in
their opinion, derived its origin . . . the fact that Achamoth wandered out-
side the Pleroma . . . and was sought after by the Savior, he himself re-
vealed when he said that he had come for the lost sheep. 12

The strange cast of characters and even stranger happenings show
what an elaborate drama was compressed in the image of a re-
covered sheep. No doubt the intricacies which confuse modern
readers held great attraction for ancient worshippers. But the main
points of the Valentinian preaching were not mistaken by the ad-
herents: they were the progeny of celestial Aeons, legitimately home-
sick in the world because held hostage far from their transcendent
haven. The true identity, destiny, and destination of those capable
of enlightment had been made known when the savior assumed a
himian disguise in order to redeem spiritual beings from entrap-
ment in materiality and ignorance. It was a gospel for a fearful
time, and the note of apprehension which sounds throughout late
antiquity is accented, rather than subdued, by a description of
gnostic certitude of salvation:

11. Ixcndicu^ Against Heresies 1.16.1.

12. Ibid., 1.8.4! Elements of Mt. 15.2 and 18.12ff. appear in the passage.

. . . they hold that they shall be entirely and undoubtedly saved, not by
means of conduct, but because they are spiritual by nature ... it is impos-
sible that spiritual substance (by which they mean themselves) should ever
come under the power of corruption. . . .^^

So it was that advocates of saving knowledge understood themselves
to be reclaimed by the shepherd from above and released in joy
from the world's instability and impermanence. Scarcely a single
important element of this understanding of Christian religion was
to escape challenge from other followers of Christ who saw divine
nature and action, as well as human nature and the human plight,
in very different terms. For them, the parable of the lost sheep
could not carry the same meaning, nor hold out the same promise.

2. The Wayward Sheep: Recapitidated and Restored

No one took up the challenge of Valentinus and company with
more vigor and persistence than Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyons. Even
in an age which did not incline to breezy titles, his great attack
promised by its name a thorough examination and critique; it was
called Refutation and Overthrow of Knoioledge Falsely So-Called,
and ran to five substantial books. ^^ There is one sense in which
Irenaeus' lengthy rebuttal is uncomplicated. However intricate his
particular arguments or exegetical ventures become, it is not dif-
ficult to trace a straight line to a few propositions basic to his
experience and understanding of the Christian proclamation. They
are primary assertions about the identity and purposes of God,
and about the arena in which divine action occurs.

It is in the first place axiomatic, Irenaeus argues, that no God
of greater majesty and honor than the Lord of creation can be
thought to exist. Even if the gnostics' distant, imknowable 'Tore-
father" and his supporting cast of Aeons were not so patently fan-
tastic, so obviously the imaginings of demented minds, there would
be the testimony of Scripture and the worship of Christians to
refute this or any other plurality of deities. Far from being the
benighted and dim-witted angel who, without knowing his limita-
tions, fashions what he can from faulty materials, the Greater Lord
of the Hebrews and (now) the Christian people is the holy God —
there is no other. It is the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, God the
Father of Jesus Christ, "who has made heaven and earth, rules
over all, and is the only true God, above whom there is no other

13. Ibid., 1.6.2.

14. The shorter title, Against Heresies, is the usual name given to the work.

God."^'' To buttress this assertion. Irenaeus quickly turns to the
"Rule of Faith," one of the most effective weapons in the arsenal
of the anti-gnostic theologians: Why else do Christians, "though
dispersed throughout the whole world, even to the ends of the
earth," profess a uniform belief "in one God, the Father Almighty,
who made heaven and earth and the seas and all the things that
are in them?"^^

From the claim that ultimate goodness and glory reside in this
God there follows another conviction which is central to Irenaeus'
several arguments: because it is the good and purposeful work of
God, creation is valued. The nature and identity of its author and
framer make it blasphemous to count creation intrinsically worth-
less or beyond redemption. ^'^ Law-giver, prophet and apostle had
denounced as idolatry the worship of things created and made. Now
gnostic estimates of the world and its enfleshed populace prompt
Irenaeus to charge that God is equally dishonored when creation
(whether its prime "stuff" or its embodied beings) is held in con-
tempt.

He is not insisting, as a nature-enthusiast or ecologist might,
that our commitment to creation is a good, even imperative thing.
The decisive commitment, he believes, is the one God has made
to creation, and this commitment is total — the very dust into which
God first breathed life is encompassed by the divine plan for re-
demption (dispensatio).

Who is correct about the nature of the world and the plight of
humankind? Is it because of a prior, distant mishap that the
created order is a zone of confusion and darkness, and its inhabi-
tants are prisoners in sluggish flesh? Or does evil exist in the world
and among its creatures because hiniian disobedience introduced
discord and estrangement into a kingdom of peace? For Irenaeus,
the problem harks back to the story of Adam and Eve, and the
broken compact which disrupted human relationship with God
the lifegiver. Sin, ignorance, and mortality are facts of life in the
world not because the world is evil by nature, but because the
original human likeness to the creator was willingly forfeited.
Everyone's story is the story of Adam, who "lost his natural dis-

15. Irenaeus Against Heresies 3.6.4. Chapters 6-12 of Book 3 treat numerous
passages from Scripture and from apostolic writings which enforce this assertion.

16. Ibid., 1.10.1.

17. See implications of this for Irenaeus' doctrine of resurrection in Against
Heresies 5.2.2.

position and childlike mind" through disobedience. ^^ A hard look
at the human jjopulation, according to Irenaean analysis, will not
reveal souls plummeted into flesh — all in need of deliverance from
"sarkic" ignorance, but only some capable of "pneumatic" libera-
tion. It will reveal instead a disfigured creation, bereft of its orig-
inal goodness and natural harmony. It will reveal a race of beings
who have turned a life of trust in the garden into life at cross-
purposes. What, short of a new act of creation, an event of re-
formation, can touch the dimensions of conflict and betrayal which
beset human existence? Who is the redeemer who might restore
the primal beauty of creature and creation?

Irenaeus' distinctive answers to these questions shape his way
of understanding the parable of the lost sheep. His interpretation,
predictably, is directed against the chief assumptions of gnostic
piety. To combat the Valentinian claim that salvation consists in
escape from the world, the flesh and the Demiurge, the theory is
advanced that God's redemptive plan is a "recapitulation." In
uniting his Word/ Son to his own workmanship in the incarnation,
God "headed up again in himself (i?i sc recapitulans) the ancient
formation of man, that he might kill sin, deprive death of its
power, and vivify man."^'' This is the idea which controls Irenaeus'
description of the shepherd's redemption of the lost sheep.

It was necessary, therefore, that the Lord, coming to the lost sheep, and
making recapitulation of so comprehensive a dispensation, and seeking after
his own handiwork, would save that very man who had been created after
His image and likeness, that is, Adam, filling up the time of his condemna-
tion, which had been incurred through disobedience. 20

In the other major passage in which the parable is discussed, we
are told that the Son of God, in assuming human nature from Mary,

. . . descend[ed] to those things which are of the earth beneath, seeking the
sheep which had perished, which was indeed his own particular handiwork,
and ascend[ed] to the height above, offering and commending to his Father
that human nature (hominem) which had been found, making in his own
person the first-fruits of the resurrection of man . . .21

The Lukan similitude is entirely in the service of the theologian's
central propositions: (1) the framer of the universe, and none other,
has sent his own creative Word as shepherd; (2) it is as creature that

18. Ibid., 3.23.5.

19. Ibid., 3.18.7.

20. Ibid., 3.23.1.

21. Ibid., 3.19.3.

the sheep is sought out by God, who vahies his own handiwork and
is faithful to his commitments.

From this point the Irenaean soteriology becomes aggressively
anti-docetic. Since human beings consist of body taken from the
earth and soul quickened by God, it was fitting that the Word
become truly incarnate.-- As an actual human being "consisting of
flesh, and nerves and bone," the Christ gained nourishment from
food, was subject to aging, weariness, pain, and death. -^ Accord-
ing to the Irenaean redemptive scheme, the work of Christ has the
effect of undoing and redoing, of reversing and commencing afresh:

... as the human race fell into bondage to death by means of a virgin, so it is
rescued by a viigin; virginal disobedience having been balanced in the op-
posite scale by virginal obedience, tor in the same way the sin of the first
created man receives amendment bv the correction of the First-Begotten,
and the coming of the serpent is conquered by the harmlessness of the
dove, those bonds being unloosed by which we had been fast bound to
death .24

Against the gnostic attempt to disengage religious reality from the
temporal and material arena, to disconnect the unknown Father
from the God of the prophets and the peasant victim from Nazareth,
Irenaeus pits the theology of recapitulation. Elaborating Paul's
portrayal of Christ as Second Adam in Rom. 5, he underlines the
continuity of the deity's work of creation and redemption.--^ The
shepherd-redeemer comes to the sheep (which is Adam/human
nature/ the flawed image and likeness of God) not to lead the way
to the world's exit, but to accomplish the restoration of holiness.
Redemption has nothing to do with flight from materiality, every-
thing to do with the renovation of creation. A spiritual presence
hovering over the ambiguities of human life and history would
have brought no salvation worthy of the name. The work of God
in Christ, however, recapitulated and reclaimed all the dimensions
of the life which humans actually possess, to the end "that he might
bring us to be even what he is himself."-'^ But Irenaeus, as clearly
as Paul, knows that the end is not yet. Until the creation is re-
stored to its primeval holiness at the Eschaton, Christians are to

22. This doctrine, also, is firmly established in tin- "Rule of Faith," as can
be seen in Irenaeus Ai;aiii.st Heresies 1.10.2 and IcrluUian F)es(iij>tl(»i Ai^aiiist
Heretics 13.

23. Irenaeus Against Heresies 5.2.3.

24. //>/d., 5.19.1.

25. lbid.,Z.\%.1 and 3.21.10.

26. Ibid., 5, Preface.

live faithfully and without succumbing to bodily passions. Mem-
bers of the church are "spiritual" in a pointedly anti-gnostic sense —
"not as incorporeal spirits . . . [but as those whose] substance, that
is, the union of flesh and spirit, receiving the Spirit of God, makes
up the spiritual man."-^ Nor will a saint be differently constituted,
either apparently or actually, when the reign of God is fully estab-
lished. In that time in which the renewed creature "flourishes in
an incorruptible state . . . [and] the new man remain[s] continually,
always holding fresh converse with God," resurrected humanity will
still be "soul receiving the Spirit of the Father, and the admixture
of that fleshly natme which was moulded after the image of God."28
CoJitra Valentinus and Simon, Irenaeus sees in the shepherd the
Divine Word, whose incarnate descent does not pry souls free, but
recapitulates and repairs wayward humanity, body and soul. The
cause for rejoicing is the shepherd's descent, the decisive revelation
in Christ that God fulfills his commitment to creation and to those
who will be recalled to perfection in his image and likeness. If his
understanding of the parable is more compelling to us than that
of his opponents, we have only been reminded of the fact that a
theology forged in a controversy long j^ast has left its marks on the
most fundamental ways in which we think as modern Christians.

Before his brilliant career ended in 253, Origen's work as the-
ologian and Biblical scholar had come to the attention of educated
Christians and pagans far beyond his native Alexandria and Cae-
sarea in Palestine, where he lived after running afoul of his bishop
in 230. In his capacity as theological expert he served as consul-
tant and arbiter, travelling to churches troubled by disputes over
doctrine. Equally expert in philosophy, he attracted some non-
Christian students, though his reputation as a vigorous proponent
of the view that Christianity was the only ultimately true philosophy
made him a central disputant in the sharp arguments exchanged by
pagan and Christian theologians.

Among the vast number of problems and projects which occu-
pied him, Origen sought, Avith no less intensity than Irenaeus, to
challenge and expose the ideas of the gnostics as innovations and
depaitures from the faith of the apostles. In the preface of On First
Principles, his ambitious attempt to build "a connected body of
doctrine," Origen's description of the God of Scripture and the
apostolic teaching is counterposed to gnostic speculations: God is

27. Ibid., 5.8.2.

28. Ibid., 5M.1 and 5.6.1.

one, the creator God, both just and good (against Marcion's con-
tention that a vengeful God reigns in the Old Dispensation, a lov-
ing God in the New), whose Word, Jesus Christ, came to earth and
was incarnate, truly (not seemingly) undergoing birth, suffering,
and death before his triumphant resurrection. With the Father
and Son, the Holy Spirit is "united in honor and dignity."-" These
assertions, produced and refined through conflict with gnostic teach-
ing and outlined in the "Rule of Faith," provide the fundamental
bases and boundaries, the "first principles" of Origen's theology.
In his case, these essentials of faith do not resolve all questions, but
make possible those explorations which seek to unlock mysteries of
God's purposes in and for the universe.

It would have been impossible for Origen, an Alexandrian, to
be immune to those instincts and energies which rewarded gnostic
Christianity with an early following and broad popularity in Egypt.
Some have claimed, in fact, that Origen's anti-gnostic theology is
itself gnostic in its essential structure and objective, and is only
adjusted in its particulars to avoid violation of the "Rule of
Faith."^" The partial truth of that claim derives from the fact that
when antagonists fight "in close" it is precisely the shared ground
(the modes of conceptualization and language held in common)
which heats discussion into polemic. In theological, as in other
dealings, agreement over what matters (e.g., the question of being
"lost" or "saved") is just what makes disagreement so volatile.

It is the attention which Origen devotes to questions concern-
ing the soul which seems to place his theology (and his handling
of the parable of the lost sheep) somewhere in the territory which
stretches between Irenaeus and the Valentinians. Amid his clear
anti-gnostic declarations on the identity of God, he raises his ver-
sion of the problem, still unanswered, which had vexed and then
inspired gnostic teachers and seers:

In regard to the soul, whether it takes its rise from the transference of the
seed ... or vvliether it has some other beginning, and whether this begin-
ning is begotten or unbegotten, or at any rate whether it is imparted to

29. Origen On First Principles. Preface. Quotations from this work arc from
the edition of G. W. Butlerworth (New York: Harper and Row, 1906).

30. For the view that Origen's "system" bears closest reseml)lan(e to that
of the gnostic theologians, see Hans Jonas. (',)iosis and spdtantikcr Geist (Got-
tingen: Vandenhocck & Ruprecht, 1934) H, 1, pp. 171-233. If one is searching
for extra-biblical inlluenccs in Origen's theology, a stronger case can be made
for his dependence upon basic Platonic themes, as Hal Koch argued long ago
in his masterful Pronoia und Paideusis (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1932).

the body from without or no; all this is not very clearly defined in the
teaching [i.e., the teaching delivered by the apostles].3i

From such wonderings emanated Origen's vision — a proclamation
of God's saving "economy" and an account of the universe's origin
and destiny. In a timeless beginning, he wrote, God begot as many
pure minds as he could serve as sovereign, intending for them a
life in beatitude, a life of basking in his love. Exercising their
freedom as rational beings, these minds departed from the Father
(either through emulation of Satan, the first rebel mind, or because
they became sated and grew weary of adoration and contemplation
of the divine). As the minds fell, they cooled into souls, assuming
shapes and degrees of materiality determined by the distance they
chose to put between themselves and God, the source of their life
and enlightenment. In this way the created order came into being,
populated by spiritual beings of fine substance (planets, stars,
angels) or grosser (humans and the animal species) who were dis-
tributed throughout the universe in "different ranks of existence
in accordance with their merit. "^- For Origen the visible world
in its beauty and harmony revealed a design and cohesion imposed
by a benevolent creator; the same world in its distorted and tragic
aspect gave testimony to liberty badly misused by intelligent beings.
In this cosmos of free choice and willing relationship God coerces
no one, and no one's choice of good or evil is determined before-
hand.

No one is stainless by essence or by nature, nor is anyone polluted essen-
tially. Consequently, it lies with us and with our own actions whether we
are to be blessed and holy, or whether through sloth and negligence we are
to turn away from blessedness to wickedness and loss.S3

Origen's creator God is dedicated to the regathering of this universe
of tumbled souls, who by their own decisions have surrendered their
"first natural and divine warmth. "^^ To these dulled intelligences
he sends his Word and Reason, a divine beckoning to his rational
offspring. The invitation will extend through cycles of worlds, if
necessary, and to Satan himself, who was "once light, before he
went astray. "^5 When, finally, resistance is softened by God's chas-
tening therapy, the restoration (apokatastasis) will be complete.

31. Origen O71 First Principles, Preface.

32. Ibid., 1.6.2.

33. Ibid., 1.5.5.

34. Ibid., 2.8.3.

35. Ibid., 1.5.5.

Origen's vision of God is many things at once. It is a scientist's
explanation of the niiikiplicity and diversity of the cosmos, and a
theologian's proclamation of a God who desires reunion with his
progeny. It is also the myth and gospel Origen the believer recites
in hope, because mirrored there as a fact and promise is the end
of his estranged condition, the termination of his unclear vision of
who he is and to whom he belongs. In it is recounted God's com-
mitment to win back through persuasive love evei-y willfid and
self-destructive soul who has been given life.

The mark of Origen's theolog7, its structure and intent, can be
detected in several of his references to the story of the lost sheep. ^^
Even after his teaching has been softened by Rufinus (his translator
who also sought through revision to protect him against accusa-
tions that some Origenist doctrine was heterodox), the edge of
Origen's own thinking is not missing from these pieces of exegesis:

... of a hundred sheep, one had been lost, but the good shepherd, leav-
ing the ninety-nine on the mountains [and] coming down to this valley of
ours, the valley of tears, searched for this sheep, found it and carried it
back on his shoulders, and rejoined it (o the number of those who had
remained safe in higher places.^T

The appearance of a detail from the Matthean form of the parable
appears to be purposeful: the sheep are not left in the wilderness
(as in Lk. 15:4, en te eremo), but "on the mountains" (according to
Rufinus' translation, in jnonlibus, reflecting Mt. 18:2, epi ta ore).
The suspicion that this feature serves the vertical emphasis of
Origen's scheme, i.e., the descent and ascent of souls, is corrobo-
rated by another passage in his Homilies on foslnia. Addressing
the leadership of the Church, he asks if the shepherd (bishop) can
watch the little sheep rushing to the precipice of damnation in the
world without calling out. Have you forgotten your prototype, he
asks, who,

. . . leaving the ninety-nine in celestial places, came down to earth for the
sake of one small sheep which had strayed, and found it, put it on his
shoulders, and took it back to the heavens?3f^

36. Not discussed here is Origen's argument for the unity of the church in
his Homilies on Jeremiah, fragment 28. There he finds the text pointing to
the fact that Christians are one body and one sheep. The shepherd's coming
was for the purpose of binchng the faithful togetiier, and carrying them as one
sheep to his realm.

37. Origen Homilies on Nuiubers 19.1 (translation by author).

38. Origen Homilies on Joshua 7.6 (translation by author).

With the disclosure of another piece of information — the lost sheep
is humankind, the ninety-nine are angels — the outline of Origen's
treatment of the similitude is clear.^'^ Equally clear are the ways
in which his theology is his own. Neither Helen, nor an Aeon of
any other name, nor soul-fragments destined by their nature to re-
ceive gnosis are the objects of the divine retrieval. It is mankind
that God searches out: enfleshed souls meant to be minds in spir-
itual bodies, humans capable of joining the ranks of angels, free
rational beings intended to respond to a higher calling. The
determinism and elitism of gnostic religion are under direct attack.

On the other hand, operating in thoughtful but bold independ-
ence of certain themes of judgment and eschatology familiar to us
in New Testament writings as well as Irenaean theology, Origen
sets no limit of time or worlds upon God's saving patience. And
he is unwilling to designate any creature a doomed goat — even
Satan will be restored, converted at the last by the divine affection,
"in order that God may be all in all."'*''

Little has been said to this point about the savior featured in
this drama of restoration. It was in answer to Celsus, defender of
the pagan Gods, not to the docetism of the gnostics, that Origen
spoke in specific terms of the nature of the shepherd. Against the
Christian idea of incarnation, Celsus reasoned that if God descended
to man, he underwent change "from good to bad, from beautiful
to shameful, from happiness to misfortune, and from what is best
to what is most wicked. "^^ To this sort of change true deity is not
susceptible, as anyone minimally versed in philosophy should know!

Adapting the ideas of the "Christ-hymn" in Phil. 2 to meet this
challenge, Origen speaks of the Divine Word who remains what he
is while taking upon himself the limitations of humanity. So "the
advent of Jesus to men Avas not a mere appearance, but a reality
and an indisputable fact."'- Origen chides Celsus for his inability
to understand the different forms or aspects {epinoiai) in which the
Word appears. He manifests himself in a "form corresponding to
the state of the individual, whether he is a beginner, or has made

42. Ibid., 4.19.

39. We learn from Rufinus' Apology 1.38 that Jerome drew this idea of the
meaning of the passage from Origen.

40. This is the logical implication of Origen's several references to 1 Cor.
15.28 in On First Principles. Rufinus" endeavor to obscure the unpopular uni-
versalism of Origen's theology was unsuccessful.

41. Origen Against Celsus 4.14. Translations from this work are from the
edition by Henry Chadwick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965).

100

a little progress, or is considerably advanced, or has nearly attained
to virtue already, or has in fact attained it."'*^ These modes of
revelation were necessary because rational beings, having defected
from God, were unable to gaze directly ujx)n the radiance of the
divinity. Finally,

. . . because of his great love to man, God made one special descent in order
to convert those whom the divine scripture mystically calls 'the lost sheep
of the house of Israel,' which had strayed down from the mountains; in
certain parables the shepherd is said to have come down to them, leaving
on the mountains those which had not gone astray .-14

Here began the "new thing," the Christian commotion which
Origen defended against the criticism of Celsus and all his com-
panion conservers of the custom and piety of the Empire.'*^ The
apologetic proceeds: surely the church could not be increasing in
numbers, and there would not be such pervasive evidence of
morally-improved lives if all this were not unfolding in accordance
with the providential design. God's "one special descent" in the
incarnate word released into the culture forces for change and re-
form which cannot be mistaken, nor ultimately resisted. But the
commotion is no mere civil disturbance, according to Origen — it is
the earthly signal that in Jesus Christ God is stining his own
citizenry throughout the universe and recalling them to their "first
natural and divine warmth" in his presence.

3. The Fallen Sheep: Room in the Fold?

The story of the lost sheep had its part to play, as we have seen,
in early Christian struggles to identify the deity and to define the
salvation being claimed by believers. As a vehicle for doctrinal
expression and a weapon for polemic, the parable proved its versa-
tility. But use of this text was not restricted to questions of dogma
and right belief. There were also lessons to be drawn from Jesus'
similitude which bore directly upon the self-definition of the church
and upon standards of Christian morality.

A single episode highlights the ways in which the parable was
employed to buttress sharply conflicting ecclesiologies and ideas of
discipline within the community of the redeemed. Sometime
around the year 210, the severe African churchman, Tertullian,

43. Ibid., 4.16.

44. Ibid., 4.17.

45. Ibid., 8.43. See note 1.

101

learned of an edict issued by the bishop of Carthage.^^ It read:
"I remit, to such as have discharged [the requirements of] repen-
tance, the sins of adultery and fornication."^'^ Tertullian's response
was a scathing treatise entitled On Modesty. He viewed the episco-
pal decision as a betrayal of the sanctity required of the baptized.
"Why do they . . . grant indulgence," he complains, "under the
name of repentance?"'*^

Some of the theological and scriptural arguments advanced by
supporters of the decree are visible in Tertullian's biting attack.
There is no reason to believe that they disagreed with his view
that Christians should commit no serious sins after their baptismal
renunciations. But they insisted that the divine mercy was not to
be withheld from those members of the community who falter, pro-
vided they undergo the discipline of public penance required for
readmission to communion.*^ A policy branded by rigorists like
Tertullian as moral leniency and defilement of the virgin church
looked altogether different to them. It was faithful enactment of
the purposes of God, who reveals himself in holy writings to be
merciful and slow to anger, more desirous of a sinner's repentance
than his destruction. The sons of God, they reasoned, were to be
like him in mercy and peace-making, not judging others, lest they
be judged.'^*'

There are forceful and ingenious points in Tertullian's rebut-
tal. He views with outrage the presumption of human authority to
speak for God, who alone is able to pardon sinners. The God of
Christians, he reminds his opponents, is not merciful in some sense
which negates his justice. This is why Isaiah warns that God's
patience has an end, and St. Paul can envision the necessity of
surrendering a person to Satan for damnation.-'^ The demand for
righteousness stands clearly in the Decalogue, and Tertullian finds

46. On the debate over the dating of Tertullian's Oti Modesty and the long-
popular view that Callistus, Bishop of Rome, was responsible for the edict, see
T. D. Barnes, Tertullian (Oxford: Clarendon, 1971), pp. 44-8, 247.

47. Tertullian On Modesty 1.

48. Ibid.

49. Tertullian had earlier endorsed the practice of exomologesis, as we know
from his On Repentance 9-10. There were two new factors when he composed
On Modesty: (1) Tertullian had joined the spirit-filled Montanist church, and
now adhered to the ethical rigorism of the community of the "New Prophecy"
and (2) the edict, as he argued, attempted to reclassify irremissible sins (Cf. 1
John 5.16) as pardonable.

50. Tertullian On Modesty 2. .^mong the texts used for support are Ex.
.^.6-7; Ezek. 18.23,32; 33.11; Lk. 6.36; Mt. 5.9; 7.1.

51. Ibid. References are to Isaiah 42.14 and 1 Cor. 5.5.

102

the relation of the prohibition of adultery to the prior command-
ments concerning idolatry and Sabbath observance suggestive, "for
after spiritual chastity and sanctity followed corporeal integrity. "-''^
This integrity was not possible when mankind was "in Adam," but
since the incarnation of the redeemer, it lies within the power of
those reborn "in Christ," not of "the slime of natural seed, but of
'pure water' and a 'clean spirit.' "''^

Tertullian's work is not finished. To justify their compassion-
ate decree, his opponents have pointed to the parables in Lk. 15.
The import of the parable of the lost sheep is, for them, unam-
biguous: "sheep," "flock," "good shepherd" are designations well-
known among Christians, and the saying of Jesus clearly concerns
"a Christian who has erred from the church's 'flock'. "-^^ The inter-
pretation was not at all unfamiliar to Tertullian. A decade earlier,
before becoming a Montanist, he himself had offered the proof of
God's clemency in Lk. 15:3-7 for the consolation of the lapsed
Christian, and as incentive to undertake second repentance while
the door of forgiveness remained slightly ajar."'"'

All is changed by the time he challenges the edict of the Car-
thaginian episcopacy. Fired by the spirit of the "New Prophecy,"
he is compelled to drop a plumb line in the midst of the corrupt
life of catholic, or as he calls them, "psychic" Christians (the term
"pneumatic" he reserves for his fellow Montanists). The theolog-y
and exegesis by which these intemperate church members flatter
God and indulge their carnality cannot go unchallenged.

This zeal for purity in the church produces a striking interpre-
tation of our parable. Tertullian's starting point is an exegetical
principle which sounds curiously modern. He demands that the
actual setting of Jesus, rather than any subsequent allegorical or
symbolic application, control the meaning of the text. Jesus' par-
able was an answer to a specific, historically-particular question.
He was not speaking to or of Christians. They did not exist at the
time. Jesus was answering the complaint of the Pharisees:

[They] were muttering in indignation at the Lord's admitting to his society
heathen publicans and sinners, and communicating with them in food.
When, in reply to this, the Lord had given the similitude of the restoration
of the lost ewe, to whom else is it credible that he likened it but to the lost
heathen, about whom the question was then at hand? . . . [And] in order

52. Ibid., 3.

53. Ibid., 6.

54. Ibid., 7.

55. Tertullian On Repentance 7-8.

103

to express, in opposition to the Pharisees' envy, his own grace and goodwill
even in regard of one heathen, he preferred the salvation of one sinner by
repentance to theirs by righteousness. . . .56

His treatment of the parables of the lost coin and the prodigal
follows the same principle. It is illegitimate to turn the parables
to purposes and persons other than those which Jesus addressed.
His op}X)nents identify the recovered sheep with the lapsed Chris-
tian in order that "they may endow adultery and fornication with
the gift of repentance."" But Tertullian insists that the historical
sequence must be preserved. Christians were made out of heathens,
being first "lost" and then canied back to God by the savior. The
hermeneutic in this case is dictated by the writer's vision of a pure
and obedient community of saints. Sound interpretation of Jesus'
parable, then, will not allow the original saving event — the redemp-
tion of the lost sheep from "the universal nations" — to be made a
warrant for cheap grace dispensed to (and by) Christians who strike
compromises with the world too easily.

Neither Tertullian's exegesis nor his rigorist definition of the
church won dominance in catholic Christianity. His views lived
on in "pure-church" sects and reform movements. For most Chris-
tians, the trials and temptations met in the plain business of living
required a different conviction and hope. The majority of be-
lievers sought the assurance that to their distorted and disobedient
lives the good shepherd continued to descend, and that, in the end,
rejoicing in heaven might be over their repentant faith.

Our past is richer and much less predictable than we suspect.
There may be other inferences to be drawn from this telescoped
study of a single parable in a brief seginent of the Christian com-
munity's story, but this one is inescapable. The parable of the lost
sheep did not always mean what moderns may contend it means,
any more than the people of the church always understood them-
selves in the ways of understanding we have devised for our time.
It may not be true that there was greater diversity and variety in
Christian belief and practice in the patristic age than in the
present, but it seems unlikely that there was less!

An encounter with the ideas of Simon, Irenaeus, and the rest
may push our current perspectives out of shape in a refreshing way,
if only momentarily. Perhaps it is always worth the trouble to

56. Tertullian On Modesty 7.

57. Ibid., 9.

104

ask again, in particular ways, whether theological and ecclesiastical
(and for that matter, political) traditions triumphed as orthodoxy
because they were self-evidently sound, or whether we regard them
as sound because we are jDroducts of the traditions which triumphed.
One is reminded of Ray Bradbury's story, "The Sound of Thunder,"
in which big-game hunters, thanks to a time-vehicle, safari back-
ward in time, stalking Tyrannosaurus rex. Because one of the
party clumsily slips in that former world, and destroys a butterfly,
the hunters return to a different present — one in which a more
graceless language is spoken and a more sinister government holds
sway. All has turned out differently.

Behind our most cherished contemporary understandings, con-
tested or unchallenged, there stands a long story of decisive and
subtle turnings. Whatever modern sense we make of the parable
of the lost sheep can only be enriched by a sharper consciousness
of the places we have wandered and the many ways our rescue has
been celebrated.

Biblical Perspectives
on Human Sexuality

by Stephen Sapp. M.Div. 1971, Ph.D. 1975
Visiting Lecturer, Department of Religion

"More Pre-teens Want Birth Control Advice," "New VD Strains
Proliferating in U.S.," "Teenage Motherhood Within Months of
Marriage Rising" — these recent headlines point quite clearly to the
continuing need for Christian churches to take seriously their re-
sponsibility for sexuality education and to get involved in this area,
especially on the local level, where the greatest effect is likely to be
obtained. That problems related to sexuality are among the most
pressing faced by our society today is hardly questionable (not only
with respect to youth but also for more and more adults), yet local
churches seem incapable of facing the problem squarely and often
merely continue to voice the traditional "don'ts" without present-
ing anything approaching a convincing case for their views.

Such a case must in some way take into account contemporary
biological, psychological, and sociological findings about human
sexuality if it is to speak cogently and convincingly to people today.
We must realize that it is not "copping out" to consider current
data. The Christian Church is called upon to be responsible to and
for (and therefore to speak understandably to!) the world in which
it exists, and to do this it must use the language and knowledge of
that world. Without a thorough familiarity with the results of
recent research and a careful evaluation of these findings in light
of traditional wisdom, the Christian in our scientistic culture will
always be at an innnediate and automatic disadvantage to the per-
son who can cite the latest "scientific" support for his view (whether
he really understands what he is citing or not).i

1. I have attempted such an examination and application of recent biological
and psychological research in a book (as yet untitled) to be published by Fortress
Press in March, 1977.

106

But if the churches are to have more to offer than other agencies
or individuals speaking about sexuaHty today,- if the churches are
to develop a viable "theology of sexuality" to guide Christians and
(one would hope) society at large in this confusing area — indeed, if
the churches are to carry out their necessary task of articulating
God's will for humanity — then their teachings must be firmly rooted
in the Biblical material which is the ultimate source for the Chris-
tian Church. Without these roots (and it may not be far wrong to
say that the true "radical" in the area of sexual ethics today is the
person who is willing to acknowledge and hold to these rootsl) the
churches stand to lose a great deal. First and most clearly, the
churches' unicjueness, identity, and, in a crucial sense, their very
"soul" will be forsaken. Second, the many valid and desperately
needed insights into human sexuality which the Bible contains will
not be heard. Finally, as a result, the churches will lose the ability
to contribute anything of real and lasting value in this crucial
area. In short, the churches will become simply another voice in
the rising cacophony, a voice which many are predisposed to ignore
anyway, especially when they see that the churches are really only
trying to find a theological justification for the latest hypotheses of
psychology or statistical summaries of sociology.

Of first priority, then, is ihe attempt to wrestle seriously with
the Biblical material concerning sexuality and to discover ways in
which this material can speak to us in a world radically different
from that in which the Bible was written. There are, of course,
many specific aspects of human sexuality which are quite contro-
versial today: The question of homosexuality (or at least the ordina-
tion of homosexuals) rages within United Methodism; the move-
ment to forbid abortion by means of a constitutional amendment —
largely the effort of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops —
has recently gained new impetus through the support of such di-
verse Protestants as the Reverend Jesse fackson and Billy Graham's
wife, Ruth. Since 1 clearly cannot deal with all such specific issues
here, I have decided to limit my consideration to a fundamental
and presuppositional issue, namely, the Jialnre and purpose of

2. See, e.g., The Pleasure Bond: A Neiv Look at Sexuality and Commitment
(Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1974), by the famed sex researchers Wil-
liam H. Masters and Virginia E. Johnson (in association with Robert J. Le\in),
for an excellent contemporary presentation of many of the "traditional" religious
teachings about sexuality from a physiological-psyciiological viewpoint. These
two researchers, whom many associate with the "dehumanization ' of sex and
the spread of sexual freedom, instead come down very strongly on the side of
commitment and fidelity as necessary for full sexual pleasure and fulfillment.

107

human sexuality itself as presented in the Bible. By doing this, I
think information will be provided which any Christian can in-
corporate into his or her view of sexuality and which can serve as
a foundation upon which to base considerations of the many ques-
tions of sexual morality which currently face us. Although all
avenues for furthering our knowledge should be explored and
taken into account, the Bible must remain as the informing and
guiding source for Christian theological-ethical reflection.

The Old Testament

The Old Testament contains a great many references to sex
and sexual behavior, and of necessity 1 have been highly selective
in the passages to be examined. Only the Genesis creation accounts
and the Song of Songs will be considered for their contribution to
an understanding of the Old Testament attitude toward sexuality.

The Genesis Creation Accounts

An understanding of human sexuality is intricately interrelated
with an understanding of man in general; any attempt to uncover
the roots of the Biblical view of sexuality must take into account
the broader question of the nature of man. Nowhere in the Old
Testament is this interrelationship more clearly depicted than in
the creation stories of Genesis, and to these accounts we will devote
a major jxjrtion of this investigation of the Old Testament view of
human sexuality.

The first three chapters of Genesis, as is well known, contain
two accounts of the creation of man: the first, l:l-2:4a, from the
Priestly or P source (put in its final form ca. 500 B.C., although it
contains much older material); and the second, 2:4b-3:24, from the
Yahwist or J source (written ca. 950 B.C., making it the oldest nar-
rative source in the Bible). For the sake of convenience, we will
consider the stories in the order in which they occur in the Bible.

Perhaps the most significant point to be found in both Genesis
creation stories, especially in light of traditional Christian inter-
pretations, is the unquestionable affirmation of human sexuality as
good, as God's willful intent for human existence. It is clear from
a reading of the very first chapter of Genesis that the Old Testa-
ment faces the question of sexuality directly, as a basic fact of
creation to be accepted, not hidden: "So God created man in his
own image, in the image of God he created him; male and fe7nale
he created them. And God blessed them, and God said to them,
'Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it' " (1:27-

108

28a, emphasis added). By presenting man's creation as male and
female, the Priestly author assined that human sexuality must be
seen as neither a mistake by God nor the consequence of man's
sin, but as part of God's intention and therefore a meaningful
aspect of human existence; indeed, in some sense man's sexuality
participates in his creation in God's image. -^ The crucial point is
that sexuality is presented as fundamental to what it means to be
human and thus must be taken very seriously.

Furthermore, when God had completed his creative work, "he
saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good"
(1:31a, emphasis added). This judgment of "very good" was pro-
nounced on all of God's handiwork, including the sexuality of
man, and such a view makes impossible for those in the Judeo-
Christian tradition a belief in metaphysical dualism (which views
the material world and human body as inherently evil). In addi-
tion, it is important to note that God's first words to his new crea-
tures are a command (also characterized in the text as a blessing)
to exercise the sexuality he has created: "Be fruitful and multiply."
Thus there is no suggestion that sexuality is the result of man's
sin or that child-bearing is in any way a punishment — human sexual
activity and procreation are part of the creation that God judged
to be "very good."

Also, in this stoi-y, it is clear that the "image of God" refers
neither to the man alone nor to the woman alone, but only to the
two of them together, to the "them." It is significant further that
the male and the female are created simultaneously with no hint
of temporal, much less ontological, superiority for the male, and
that the blessing of fruitfulness and dominion is delivered to both
male and female together. In short, P makes clear that both man
and woman were necessary for the completion of God's creation of
mankind; not only did both have to be created, they had to be
brought together in what was explicitly a sexual relationship in

3. Although it has been effectively obscured by the traditional misinterpre-
tations, the J account clearly corroborates P's unccjuivocal statement that God
intends sexuality from titc bcginninf-. ihat he chooses delil)eratcly to make man
a sexual being: In Gen. 2. both male and female (and therefore by definition
sexuality!) are intentionally created by Ciod before any iiint of sin, of whatever
kind, enters the picture.

109

order to fulfill God's purpose for those creatures whom he had
created "in his own image."*

These themes of the goodness of sexuality and the necessity of
the male-female relationship appear also in the J creation story,
though the language and mode of presentation are much less the-
ological and abstract and more personal and detailed. Throughout
the P account, every act of Creation is judged "good," with the
entire creation (including man's sexuality) characterized as "very
good," as we just saw. The only place in the whole presentation of
creation where the judgment "not good" is pronounced is Gen.
2:18b: "It is not good that the man should be alone." We see
here corroboration of P's contention that man by himself is less
than fully human, that he needs another in order to reflect truly
God's image and to fulfill God's purpose. And this other is looman,
the only companion really "fit for him." For J as well as P, true
humanity exists only in conmiunity, and the fundamental form of
this community for both authors is the relationship bet^veen man
and woman. Again, sexuality — man's existence as male and female
— is strongly affirmed as a central element in God's intention and
plan for mankind.

The reason given by J for the creation of woman — that the man
should not be alone — is also important to our inquiry. Given the
Hebrew emphasis on procreation (a central element in the P story),
it is significant that J stressed man's loneliness, his need for a com-
panion worthy of him, as the immediate reason for woman's crea-
tion. Furthermore, there is no mention at all of children in this
particular story, indicating that God's creation of sexuality was to
serve purposes other than just procreation (this, incidentally, is a
good example of ihe need to consider Biblical passages in their
overall context and not to lift out certain passages or emphases —
the procreative element of Gen. 1 needs the stress on companion-
ship of Gen. 2 for balance and for an accurate picture of God's
intention in the creation of sexuality). J apparently was interested
in explaining why a man and woman forsook blood ties (of in-

4. It is crucial for an understanding of sexuality rooted in the Bible to
recognize, in Helmut Thielicke's words, "the fact that here the Bible does not
speak first of the creation of man in general and then ajtenvards of the differ-
ence Ijetwecn the sexes, but rather from the very outset speaks of man only in
the framework of the polarity of the sexes." lor the Priestly author "there is
no such ihing as a liinnan being apart from a man or a woman." See Hoiu the
World Began: Man in I he First Chajiters of the Bible, John W. Doberstein, trans.
(Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1961), p. 89.

comparably greater importance in his time) and entered into a
relationship with each other based on a love even stronger than that
of a child for its parents. J found his answer in the fact that the
power of eros, the inextinguishable drive of the sexes for each other,
was given to man by God himself in the creation of woman from
man (cf. "Therefore" in v. 24). According to Gerhard von Rad, this
fact "gives to the relationship between man and woman the dignity
of being the greatest miracle and mystery of Creation.""' Further-
more, this eros is presented not as appropriate only in Paradise
and certainly not as a result of sin, but as a permanent law of
nature, based upon the clear statement that in the creation God
intended not only the existence of man as male and female but
also the desire of the sexes for each other, and apparently not solely
for procreative purposes.

Because of the traditional misinterpretations, it is important to
consider the implications of the J story for the status of women.
As we saw, P makes no distinction whatsoever between male and
female in terms of importance and thus indicates that God did
indeed create them equal. |, because of the temporal priority as-
signed to the male's creation, has usually been interpreted as imply-
ing thereby an ontological superiority also.'^ But it is not unrea-
sonable to suggest, on the contrary, that the whole story seems to
build to an intended climax in the creation of the woman, whose
elaborate creation is in marked contrast to the relatively perfunctory
creation of the animals (and even of the man himself!).

Furthermore, it is significant that the words translated by the
RSV as "helper fit for him" (the infamous "helpmeet" of the KJV)
actually have a considerably diileicnt connotation in the original
Hebrew: Their literal meaning is "alongside him" or "correspond-
ing to him," with the notion of similarity as well as supplementa-
tion. The New English Bible oilers perhajjs the best translation of
this concept in simple English: God provides "a partner for him."
It is crucial to note that it is only after the sin of disobedience —
when the state of existence God had intended for his creatures had

5. Old Testament Tlieology, I, D. M. G. Stalker, trans. (New York: Harper
& Row, 1962), p. 150.

6. This same argument, if applied to the P account, would of comse mean
that "every living creature that moves" (not to mention light, (he seas, vegeta-
tion, etc.) is superior to man since thev were created first; and in the J story
itself the hinnan female would have to be seen as inferior to all the rest of the
animals. Not surprisingly, however, those who are eager to apply such reason-
ing to the male-female relationship in J are nuich less willing to be consistent
and apply it to P and to the female-animal relationship in J as well.

Ill

been disrupted — that woman is seen as subordinate. Gen. 3:16 —
often cited as proof of the divinely ordained superiority of the
male— is actually a condemnation of it (after all, it is itself in the
context of a curse, not a statement of how things should be!): The
dominance /subservience model is clearly a result of the "Fall,"
with its disordered relationships, and tlierefore not God's will but
the very thwarting of it. Thus, whatever the traditional interpre-
tations of this verse, it appears that J considered the original state
of creation (and of woman's place within it) to have been some-
what different, though since disturbed by sin.

Having mentioned the Fall, I feel obligated to look briefly at
this story which has been the source of so much misunderstanding
about the proper Christian attitude toward sexuality. The tradi-
tional (mis)interpretation of Gen. .'3 goes roughly as follows: Adam
and Eve did not know about sex until after eating of the tree of
"knowledge of good and evil," which knowledge is therefore asso-
ciated with the consciousness of sex, which automatically brings
with it the sense of shame that the two humans experienced as
soon as "their eyes were opened." This interpretation, however, is
highly unlikely for several reasons, only t\\'0 of which can be men-
tioned here.

First, the equation of "knowledge of good and evil" with con-
sciousness of sex implies that the lack of shame about being naked
means that the first couple were not conscious of their sexuality.
Such a position assumes that sexuality itself occasions shame by its
very nature (once one is aware of it). But this suggests that sexuality
was not part of God's intention for humans in creation, whereas we
have already seen that both creation stories consider sexuality to
be a purposeful part of God's good creation, with no indication that
sexual experience was jealously withheld from Adam and Eve.
Second, it is clear from the temptation story that God (or members
of his heavenly court) possessed the "knowledge of good and evil."
This in fact was the serpent's argument for eating the forbidden
fruit, in order to be "like God, knowing good and evil" (3:5), and
it appears that such knowledge was the result (cf. 3:22). But one
of the distinctions of Hebrew religion was, as Martin Buber once
put it, that its God was "supra-sexual," creating merely by divine
will rather than by sexual coupling with a female deity. Thus it
is very hard to see how the "knowledge of good and evil" — a specific
possession of God in this story — could possibly have been sexual
experience or consciousness, as the traditional view has held.

112

An interpretation of the story which is more consonant with
Hebrew attitudes toward sex, esjiecially as they are presented in
Gen. 1 and 2, would hold that the sin of the first couple, far from
being sexual in any sense, was one of pride, of overstepping the
limits God had placed upon them as finite creatures (symbolized by
the forbidding of the one tree) and attempting to become "like
God." The Bible throughout considers pride to be the root and
essence of all human sinfulness, and here we have a graphic depic-
tion of the first instance of man's attempt to set himself up as his
own "center of value," of his refusal to accept his finiteness and
limitations. Thus the "knowledge of good and evil" does not mean
sexual awareness or exjjerience; rather it is a symbol for the knowl-
edge of everything, for omniscience in the widest sense, a quality
which, unlike sexuality, Hebrew religion did attribute to its God.
"Good and evil" was used in the morally based Hebrew culture as
the two extremes of existence between which everything falls, much
as we in our intellectually based cidture might say, "He knows from
A to Z."

The consequences of this prideful attempt by the first couple to
usurp God's place were natmally the sundering of their relationship
with God (symbolized by their expulsion from the Garden) and the
subsequent disordering of their relationship with the rest of nature
and with each other — the woman became subservient and the man
dominant, neither a healthy position to be in and neither God's
original intention for the male-female relationship. A further and
not surprising result of these disrupted and disordered relationships
was shame, which is not meant to be sexual at all here (though our
society is so obsessed with sex that we tend to equate shame with
sex automatically); rather, "nakedness" is a powerful symbol for
having one's weakness exposed, a sign of shame and dishonor, of
helplessness and vulnerability before a more powerful and righteous
authority. Shame, in short, is a response to being unmasked, to
being, as we would say, "caught in the act." Thus the point which
the Biblical author wanted to convey by his use of the image of
"nakedness" would be better understood today (and with far less
detriment to Christian views of sexuality) if Gen. 3:7a were trans-
lated, "Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew they
had been caught ivith their pants doion!" The imagery is the same,
but the point is much clearer to us.''

7. Perhaps one explanation for the traditional misinterpretation may be
found in the Genesis story itself: It is impossible for us to imagine sexuality
without some sense of shame precisely because we live in the disordered state
after the Falll

113

The Song of Songs

Overall, then, there is little question that the view of human
sexuality presented in both creation stories of Genesis is positive
and affirmative, asserting that God intended man to be sexual and
in fact blessed and commanded the use of sexuality. There are
numerous other illustrations in the Old Testament of this under-
standing of sexuality as a good part of God's creation, but space
limits us to a consideration of what is surely the pre-eminent exam-
ple, the most explicitly sexual book in the Bible, namely, the Song
of Songs. Although the scholarly problems concerning this book
are numerous, enough consensus has emerged that we can draw
several conclusions important to our study.

The weight of current scholarship supports the view that the
book is most clearly a loose collection of lyrics with no theme other
than love between the sexes and no purpose other than praise of
this love. God is not mentioned in it and it contains no hidden
moral; only by the greatest injustice to the text itself can the Song
be allegorized into a depiction of the love of God for the Church
or of Christ for the soul. Yet the Song of Songs is a sacred book
with a deserved (though often overlooked) place in our canon. The
reason for this is that to the Hebrew sages who preserved the Song
there was no distinction between the "sacred" and the "secular"
such as we make today — religion pervaded every aspect of life. The
Song of Songs is secular, therefore, only by our modern definition,
which makes a facile distinction totally alien to the mentality of
those who preserved the Song. Although God neither appears nor
is mentioned in it (which makes it "'secular" for us), for the Hebrew
sages he is not absent from the Song, nor are his love and concern
for his creatures unmanifested in it. Rather they are clearly shown
in the enjoyment and pleasure (given by God to man in the crea-
tion) which the lovers find in each other and in their surroundings.
Although this view may strike us as strange and somehow "un-
christian," it is a direct result of the presentations of creation in
Genesis and the later Hebrew development of the notion of God's
inseparability from and total involvement in all facets of his good
creation, including man's sexuality.

The Song of Songs was preserved in the tradition, then, pre-
cisely because the sages did not distinguish between Avri tings which
explicitly mention God (i.e., the "sacred") and those which do not
(i.e., the "secular"), even if the latter deal vividly and forthrightly
with sexual love. Since God created evprything, everything speaks
of his love for his creatures if used as he intended. The relation-

114

ship of man and woman (including its attendant pleasures) was
thus seen as an indication — perhaps one of the clearest indications —
of God's love and concern for man. Sexuality expressed as God
intended is one of man's greatest joys, and any God who would
purposefully give his creatures the source of so much pleasure and
enjoyment must surely be good and loving.

The Song of Songs is significant to us precisely because it re-
minds us of a central fact of Old Testament thought too often
overlooked today, namely, the goodness of all creation, including
man's body and his sexual nature. The Old Testament stresses that
sexuality is a normal part of human existence, to be accepted as a
gift from God and therefore to be celebrated and not denied. Sex
itself is not sinful, contrary to later interpretations: Man can sin
with sex, as he can with money, power, or any number of other
things; but when he does, it is man who sins, not some alien, de-
monic force over which he has no control and therefore for which
he has no responsibility.

For the Christian, it is of course necessary to ask how these Old
Testament ideas were applied and developed in the New Testa-
ment. With the background we have now gained of the Old Testa-
ment attitude toward sexuality, we can examine some of the major
teachings on this topic of the two dominant New Testament figures.

The New Testament
Jesus

After the abundance of statements in the Old Testament about
the nature and purpose of human sexuality, it may be somewhat
surprising to discover that the New Testament is relatively silent
on the topic. Although there are certainly other reasons, both theo-
logical and historical, for this puzzling lack of attention, one of
the most obvious is that the New Testament is in organic contin-
uity with the Old, and the New Testament writers (and those writ-
ten about) were mostly Jews, who had been brought up in the
traditions and teachings of the Old Testament. Thus, where the
actors and authors of the New Testament were basically satisfied
with what the Old Testament taught, they did not bother to elabo-
rate on that particular topic. For them the Hebrew scriptures were
their "Bible," and Jesus himself clearly asserted his adherence to
the sacred writings of his fathers (cf. Mt. 5:17). Even in his most
scathing attack on the scribes and Pharisees, Jesus condemned only
their failure to live up to the law, and he urged his followers to

115

"practice and observe whatever they tell you," i.e., the law (Mt.
23:3).

On the other hand, it is quite clear from the Gospel records
that Jesus thought that he was inaugurating God's earthly reign
(Mk. 1:15), within which he apparently felt free to appeal beyond
the human interpretations of God's law to God's primordial will as
originally intended in creation. Christian theology thus asserts that
the work of Christ consisted in carrying through, fulfilling, the will
of God; that Jesus so understood his mission is shown by the anti-
theses of the Sermon on the Mount. The Christian, then, must
listen carefully whenever Jesus claims to be stating God's true will
for man.^

The importance of this point becomes immediately apparent
when we consider Jesus' teachings about marriage and divorce, the
prime sources for discerning his understanding of human sexuality.
In Mk. 10:2-9, Jesus asserts that, whatever the current situation,
God created man male and female so that they could come together
in marriage, a physical union in which "they are no longer two
but one flesh." This Semitic idiom indicates a merger of complete
personalities, not just physical bodies. And this union, since it was
God's original intention for man, is to be permanent; only because
of man's disobedience and disordered relationships was this not the
case. Since God's will was that the one-flesh union be indissoluble,
for Jesus divorce was, in the deepest sense, literally impossible, and
remarriage therefore necessarily constituted adultery. Far from dis-
paraging marriage, then, Jesus implies a very high view of the sanc-
tity and permanence of the sexual union between husband and
wife, a view which we could well benefit from recapturing. Inci-
dentally, it is significant to note, especially given the traditional
stress of Judaism on procreation, that Jesus appears to emphasize
in all his statements about marriage the unitive, relational aspect
rather than the procreative.

Another of Jesus' teachings sheds further light on his view of
sexuality. In the famous teaching on adultery (Mt. 5:27-28), Jesus
points out that in lust, as in adultery, the created purpose of sex-
uality— to allow a man and a woman to unite in the most intimate
of relationships — cannot be fulfilled, and the object of lust remains
just that, i.e., an object to be used to gain the self's own satisfaction

8. The question of the direct applicability to our problems today of these
appeals of Jesus to God's original will in creation is greatly complicated by the
fact that we live in tlie "fallen " times, after Jesus' preaching but liejore his
parousia, and not in the time of the original creation.

116

without regard for the other's needs. Jesus thus implicitly denies
the use of a woman (or a man) as a mere "sex object" at the same
time that he stresses once again God's original will for sexuality.
Since in lustful desire as such the physical act is not yet committed,
the decisive factor is the will or intention. Clearly for Jesus, then,
sex involves much more than the physical merging of bodies if the
mere wrong desire is as open to condemnation as the wrong act.

It should be noted that in this passage Jesus surely was not con-
demning the natural, involuntary, transitory sexual impulse, a per-
fectly proper aspect of human sexuality as created by God. His
concern was rather twofold: first, that one not deliberately keep
oneself in a prolonged state of desire for another that represents the
actual wish or intent to commit the act, deterred only by lack of
opportunity; and second, that the object of one's sexual impulses
be appropriate — this is shown by the use of the phrase "commit
adultery," which implies that the "woman" mentioned is yiot a
legitimate partner. There is certainly no condemnation of proper
sexual expression. It is hard to believe that these two verses could
have been understood so often to indicate an anti-sex bias on Jesus'
part and to encourage celibacy, but such are the vagaries of Biblical
interpretation.

Biblically speaking, the family may be seen as both the proper
context for and the result of the sexual relationship, and Jesus'
positive regard for the family has been implicit in his teachings on
marriage, divorce, and adultery. On the other hand, there are a
number of sayings of Jesus which appear to degrade and even
threaten the family (e.g., Mt. 10:34-49, 12:46-50; Lk. 9:59-62, 14:25-
27). These sayings, however, share a fairly commonly accepted
explanation which is consistent with Jesus' positive valuation of
the family elsewhere.

There is considerable scholarly agreement that the central theme
of Jesus' preaching was the coming of the kingdom of God (cf. e.g.,
Mk. 1:15 and Mt. 6:33), one of the major features of which was the
absolute sumpremacy of its claims upon the believer (cf. Mt. 13:44-
45). A careful examination of the passages vmder consideration here
indicates cjuite clearly that Jesus is not advocating the denial of
family ties or the natural relationships of life, nor is he saying that
in order to follow him one must cease to feel natural affection for
relatives. He is simply saying that if conflicts arise (as he realized
were likely), the demands of the kingdom must come first.

In these "hard sayings," then, Jesus is not disparaging the family
and thus, by implication, the sexual relationship; rather, he is set-

117

ting priorities that must be observed by those who follow him: If
need be, everything must be given up for the kingdom, even family
ties, and one must recognize the kingdom's greater claim that only
those who do God's will are the true relatives of Christ. Indeed,
far from demeaning the family, Jesus implicitly acknowledges the
high regard he held for the mutual affections of the family by using
family relationships in these examples of God's absolute claim upon
us. He says in effect that when God demands it of us, even family
ties — ex>en those bonds of affection that should be dearest and most
meaningful to us and the strongest on earth — have to be set aside.
This is the ultimate sacrifice for the kingdom, on a par with giving
up one's very life.

Although all the evidence cannot be presented here, it is im-
portant to make several summary remarks about Jesus' attitude
toward women. In a culture in which women held a subordinate,
subservient place, Jesus must have stood out for his radical attitude
toward them. For Jesus, a woman was a person, a human being, an
individual of equal worth with men before God, and she was to be
treated accordingly. This view is illustrated by his assertion of the
"one-flesh" indissolubility of marriage — precluding treatment of the
wife as mere "property" — and even more clearly by his actions with
regard to women: He healed them, conversed with them, taught
them in spiritual matters, and allowed them to accompany him on
his journeys (none of which was approved behavior in his culture).

Despite the low social and cultic status of women in his time,
Jesus addressed them as equals before God, i.e., as they were meant
to be originally by God in creation and are meant to be ultimately
in redemption. As the "New Adam" (Rom. 5), Christ serves as
God's agent in reconciling all humans — male and female — to him-
self and thus to each other. He reverses and corrects precisely what
happened in the Garden and overcomes the disruption of the rela-
tionship between God and the man and woman and the consequent
disordering of their own relationship. As we have seen, God's will
seems clearly to have been that the two should exist in harmonious
equality as one, and Christ, as the agent of redemption, restores the
original intent of God in creation, of which he was also the agent
(1 Cor. 8:6). Since Christ as Redeemer ushers in the "new creation,"
therefore, we have the hope that within a Christian framework
there will once again be the proper ordering of sexuality as in-
tended by God in the original creation.

Finally, we must consider briefly what has probably been the
most taboo topic in the history of the Church, namely, the sexuality

118

of Jesus himself. In the traditional interpretation of the later
Church, Jesus has been represented as an asthenic, non-emotional,
"innocent" celibate who was far above anything so base as sexual
feelings. With such a picture of the "model" for human life — the
"most authentic man" — it is little wonder that the Church has had
so much difficulty dealing in a positive, affirmative way with sex-
uality. Only two points can be made here in response to the tradi-
tional view.

First, Jesus was a Jew who, so to speak, lived in the Old Testa-
ment, and he would therefore most likely have held the overall
worldview- — including the attitude toward sexuality — of his tradi-
tion. This assumption is amply attested by his affirmation of mar-
riage and of the proper expression of sexuality already presented;
thus we can be fairly confident that Jesus indeed shared the Old
Testament's healthy, affirmative view of sex and marriage. Second,
if the cardinal doctrine of orthodox Christianity, the "fundamental
Christian truth" in Brunner's words — the Incarnation — is to be
valid, Jesus must have been a sexual being. If Jesus were "truly
man" and "like us in all things" (as the Chalcedonian Creed puts
it), then clearly he possessed a sexual nature and experienced sexual
feelings. Jesus' humanity is demonstrated throughout the Gospels,
especially in his expression of the very human characteristics of
fatigue, thirst, hunger, anger, sorrow, love, and pity. To deny
sexual feelings to Jesus solely on a priori grounds based on one's
own preconceived notions is to tend dangerously to^vard the Docetic
heresy and a Manichaean dualism, both of which are inconsistent
with orthodox Christian doctrine. The Gospels do not tell us how
Jesus may or may not have manifested his sexuality, but if he were
truly human, by definition he was sexual.

In summary, then, Jesus' teachings that pertain to human sex-
uality reveal a healthy, affirmative attitude, as would be expected
in someone of his backgroimd. He held marriage in high esteem
as the divinely created pattern for the man-woman relationship,
and he affirmed the importance of women within God's creation,
not just for their child-bearing ability but as unique individuals
worthy of respect and consideration in their own right. Though
some of Jesus' statements appear to disparage the family and sex-
ual relationship, these are explained by Jesus' demands for the
absolute supremacy of the Kingdom of God in one's life. Finally,
if one is to affirm the doctrine of the Incarnation, it must be clearly
stated that Jesus himself was a sexual being, although from the
available evidence we are unaware of the ways in which he may

119

have expressed his sexuality. Admittedly, our records of Jesus do
not provide a great deal of information about sexuality, but what
they do offer is overwhelmingly positive, and there is no hint at
all of any disparagement of this crucial aspect of man's being.

Paul

The apostle Paul, on the other hand, is often considered to hold
a basically negative view of sexuality and to advocate celibacy as
the "true Christian way." Clearly we must come to terms with the
thought of Paul — whom many consider to be more important in
the formulation, and certainly in the spread, of the Christian faith
than Jesus himself — if ^ve want to reach a viable understanding of
sexuality that is rooted in the historical documents of Christianity.
At the outset, we can say of Paul what we said of Jesus: As a strict
Jew (Gal. 1:14), Paul could be expected to have inherited the views
of his community, and he clearly relied heavily on the Hebrew
Scriptures (as did Jesus) for his understanding of God's will for
man. It is also important in understanding Paul's statements about
sexuality to keep in mind that, unlike most current theological-
ethical writing, the only extant records ue have of Paul's ideas are
occasional letters, written hastily to particular congregations, usually
with particular concerns in mind. This is especially evident in
Paul's most extended treatment of sexuality, 1 Corinthians 6-7, to
which we will turn for an examination of Paul's thought on the
subject.

Although often seen as indicating a negative view of sex, 1 Cor.
6 clearly shows that Paul's interest lay with urging the right use of
a God-given gift. The entire chapter, far from disparaging sexual-
ity, presents Paul's exceptionally high view of it — a view that was
based primarily on his belief that sex was created by God to serve
a unitive function for man and woman, uniting them in their total
beings and fulfilling both. Paul was extremely sensitive to offenses
against this relational function (such as transitory encounters with
prostitutes) and used as his fundamental sanction God's redemption
and ultimate resurrection of man's body through the saving work
of Christ. Since the body was the "temple of the Holy Spirit,"
bought at the cost of Christ's death, it Avas not to be defiled by the
immoral use of that body — nothing negative is said about the use
of one's body as God intended. Sexuality is one of man's most
powerful and therefore most important gifts from his Creator; it is
the misuse of this capacity, not sex itself as created by God, that
offended Paul and called down his judgment. Sexuality must be

120

used rightly, and it is to this question that Paul turned in 1 Cor. 7,
in which he addressed a group of Christians who seem to have had
ascetic leanings.

1 Cor. 7 is the part of Paul's writings most often cited as indica-
tive of his negative view of sex and marriage, and he does clearly
express a preference for the single state; but he does not seem to
recommend that the single remain so because of any inherent evil
in sexuality or inferiority in marriage. In fact, he expressly forbids
the married to become single, which one might expect if he viewed
celibacy as intrinsically superior. Paul's preference for the single
state can be explained most adequately and brought into harmony
with his overall positive valuation of sexuality if one notes his
very strong eschatological expectation of the imminent return of
Christ. In fact, there are two eschatologically motivated thrusts to
Paul's recommendation not to marry: first, that Christians should
be totally free in the short time remaining to serve the Lord as
Paul himself was (vv. 32b, 84b); and second, that unmarried per-
sons would be spared anxieties about spouses in the end-time (vv.
28b, 33, 34c). But even though "the form of this world is passing
away," Paul insisted that both men and women had the right to
marry if they so chose (v. 28a).

A further refutation of the claim that Paul had an anti-sex bias
is found in 1 Cor. 7:3-4. Here, instead of commending ascetic prac-
tices in marriage (as one who grudingly allowed sex only for its
necessary procreative function would be expected to do), Paul ex-
plicitly forbade them, except for brief periods when both partners
agreed to abstain for devotional purposes. He thus extended the
"one-flesh" concept of marriage to the absolute equality and mutual-
ity of the partners in conjugal relations. By demanding the sur-
render of authority over one's body to one's spouse, Paul recog-
nized the right of each partner to personal satisfaction and fulfill-
ment in the marital relationship. This principle is quite surpris-
ing given general first-century attitudes, and it is certainly alien to
the popular picture of Paul.

There is more to marital coitus than just physical gratification,
however, as illustrated by the extraordinary view of v. 14: Since
for Paul marriage necessarily includes coitus (cf. vv. 3-5), he seems
to be saying here that the union of two in one flesh — the highest
expression of human sexuality when it occurs within the deep and
total relationship that is marriage — is of such a natme that a be-
liever can bring about the religious sanctification of a nonbelieving
spouse. In a sense, then, Paul considers coitus (and thus human

121

sexuality in general) to be "sacramental," to be a channel through
which the material is used to bring about spiritual results — in this
case, the sanctification of the marriage partner.

Although Paul's attitude toward women has been very influen-
tial in Christian history, here we can only assert that his view was
not altogether negative but quite paradoxical. On the one hand,
he felt very great affection and appreciation for the women of his
churches, and it seems safe to assert that no confirmed misogynist
would have been likely to have so many female friends and trusted
coworkers or to have spoken so highly of them (cf. e.g., Rom. 16:1-2,
6). On the other hand, as a product of his cultural heritage, Paul
clearly stated the prevailing view that women should be subordi-
nate (cf. especially 1 Cor. 11:3-16). Indeed, Paul often struggled
with his Jewish background as it was confronted and challenged
by his Christian faith, and his tradition sometimes won, especially
on specific points such as dress in church and social roles. But when
it really mattered, in his general theological statements, the power
and truth of the gosj>el he preached came through. Thus he was
able to write Gal. 3:26-28, whose words we could well benefit from
taking to heart:

For in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith. For as many of
you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew
nor Greek; there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female;
for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

In Christ's inauguration of eschatological unity (i.e., his restora-
tion of God's original intention), sexual as well as cultural and
economic differences are to be transcended. But it is clear that Paul
did not imply any disparagement of sexuality by this statement be-
cause it is characteristically a religious affirmation. That is, it refers
to the equal dignity of all before God and the equal availability of
salvation to all. As Robin Scroggs has put it, ''Distinctions between
groups remain. Values and roles built upon such distinctions are
destroyed. Every human being is equal before God in Christ and
thus before each other."^ In short, if in God's eyes, according to
Paul, all humans are of equal worth, can we as Christians strive
for anything less?

To recapitulate briefly, throughout this examination of primary
Biblical sources for an understanding of human sexuality, two
major themes have emerged. First, the Old Testament attitude is

9. "Paul and the Eschatological Woman: Revisited," Journal of the Ameri-
can Academy of Religion, XLII (September, 1974), p. 533.

122

decidedly positive, as illustrated by the depiction of sexuality as a
willful intention of God in his good creation and by the celebration
of its appropriate expression in the Song of Songs. Jesus reflects
this view in his teachings, echoing the Old Testament concern that
this God-given gift be used properly. Neither the Old Testament
nor Jesus suggests at all that sexuality should not be expressed
because of some inherent evil attributed to it. As for Paul, his view
of sex is also basically positive, even when he recommends not
marrying in 1 Cor. 7. He certainly indicates his awareness of the
possible abuses and temptations of sex (as did the Old Testament
and Jesus), but this is no more than a recognition of its power and
importance and not any denigration of sexuality per se. There
may indeed have been an ascetic bent in Paul personally which was
absent in his tradition, Jewish or Christian. When he wrote as
theologian and ethicist, however, Paul transcended his own per-
sonal proclivity for the sake of the theological truth he wrote to
maintain.

Second, it seems clear from both creation stories in Genesis that
God's original intention was that the male-female relationship be
one of basic equality and harmony, an intention that was thwarted
by man's pridefid disobedience. Jesus was consistent with this view-
point in his attitude toward and treatment of women — not surpris-
ingly, given his frequent appeals to God's primordial will for
guidance. Even Paul, whose practical statements present a more
ambivalent attitude toward women, in his theological statements
strongly reaffirms the equality of all persons before God through
the saving grace of Jesus Christ. The Christian Church thus has a
very positive and relevant foundation in its Holy Scriptures for its
desperately needed task of proclaiming a view of human sexuality
which is consistent with God's intention when "he created them
male and female."

The Bible in Worship

by Robert T. Young, M.Div. 1960, Minister to the University
and Helen Crotwell, Associate Minister to the University

Shortly after participating in a service of worship in which
there was no direct Biblical reading or specific scriptural reference,
the person responsible for the service was asked about the place of
the Bible in Christian worship. The answer was unequivocal, "The
Bible is essential to worship." Then a pause, and with some shock,
"But I didn't use it at all." It would be rare to find any person
objecting to the primacy of the Bible in worship. The Bible is a
given, is basic, is fundamental to Christian worship.

The Christian faith presupposes a central place for the Bible
in services of worship. The assumption is that the foundation for
Christian worship is the Word of God found in the Old and New
Testaments. But this principle is easier to verbalize than to actual-
ize. The use of the Bible in worship consistently demands serious
attention and hard work. It is not unusual to observe that the use
of the Bible in a service of worship seems to be an after-thought;
or the preacher may use fascinating linguistic gymnastics to connect
the Biblical word to the preached word.

Corporate Christian worship is the gathering of the Church as
a community, to stand intentionally in the presence of God to be
renewed, to become aware of sin — to acknowledge it and claim it —
and then receive forgiveness, to hear the Word of God, to respond
to this word, and individually and corporately to become agents of
God's healing, redeeming, reconciling love in the world. Liturgy
is the public work of the people of God.

Corporate worship assumes a community which also gathers at
other times, especially to study and to plan. When this happens,
the people gathered for worship are more prepared because of their
shared common life. When this does not happen, especially when
there is no gathering of the community for study, the proclaimer
of the Word must bear more responsibility as teacher.

124

The Duke University Parish Ministry (DUPM) has become
aware of a renewed interest in Bible study. There is a serious quest
by some students for a method of study which will include the ad-
vantages of two types of Bible study which have been characterized
as "the academic" and "the individualized." The first method
places major emphases on the factual material — author, time, place,
historical situation, and variations in text; the second, on the mean-
ing the word has for the individual, directly, with little regard for
the historical context of the writing or of its relationship to today's
world. We will continue the quest because we believe that persons
who participate in Bible study and then worship together bring to
worship an additional understanding and preparation for the wor-
ship experience. They see liturgy as the work of the gathered people
of God, in contrast to seeing liturgy as a time for persons to sit
passively, watching.

One of the goals of DUPM is to provide a diversity of oppor-
tunities for corporate worship. This diversity is in response to the
pluralism of religious views of the Duke University community.
Two of the major factors which inform and shape our liturgies are
the Christian traditions represented at Duke and current theologi-
cal/ethical questions. These two factors inform the content and
style of the services. In these liturgies several elements of worship
are held in tension: the tradition of the Church, the Bible (used
explicitly or implicitly), current personal and community realities
impinging on those who gather to worship.

Here are examples of how these factors shaped the liturgies. At
some times an ancient rite of the Church will be used. This year,
for example, the University community was invited by the Catholic
Chaplain A. J. O'Brien, S.J., to participate in the Candlemass, which
includes a procession of the faithful with lighted candles to com-
memorate the entry of Jesus the Christ, the Light of the World,
into the temple at Jerusalem. The Candlemass was first practiced
by the Franks in the fifth century. There are times of the Church
year or University year when a specific part of our liturgy will be
highlighted, such as the penitential and confessional dimensions of
the Ash Wednesday worship. At other times there will be an
experimental form of liturgy. For some services people gather for
a time of preparation, dividing into sub-groups which take respon-
sibility for various parts of the service. All are given the scriptural
Word as the basis from which to work.

125

Two central experiences in the liturgy, the proclamation of
the Word and the celebration of the Eucharist, find their origin in
and are developed out of the Biblical word.

In all of the liturgies the Old Testament and New Testament
provide resources for the different parts of the service: the words
of praise, the confession of sin, the words of forgiveness and the
assurance of pardon, the act of dedication, the sending forth into
the world, the text for the hymns and anthems, as well as the focus
for the proclaimed Word.

The selection of the Biblical passage is often determined by the
liturgical year. There are many useful ancient and contemporary
lectionaries, such as the one found in the Book of Worship of the
United Methodist Church, or the one used by the Roman Catholic,
Lutheran, and Episcopal Churches, which is in a three-year cycle.

In a university community the academic year is often celebrated
in a service of worship, such as at the opening and closing of the
year and at graduation. When preaching on a special University
occasion, the preacher is dependent on his/her knowledge of scrip-
ture and the relationship of the Word to the event of the day.
This is often very difficult to do with integrity to the Word and
to the occasion.

The more traditional approach to Biblical exposition — the
preached Word or the sermon — is still most frequently used as the
method of proclamation. However, even in the formal setting of
the eleven o'clock Sunday Worship in Duke Chapel, new ways to
use the Bible have been introduced. On Palm Sunday a group of
dancers under the direction of Mrs. Dot Borden interpreted Psalms
131 and 133 from Bernstein's Chichester Psalms.

In preparation for writing the sermon some preachers invite
members of the congregation to join in discussing the scripture text
and the projected sermon material. Other ways of using the Bibli-
cal Word that are being tried in Duke Chapel include:

1. The reading of a contemporary or ancient writing often illus-
trates, informs, or focuses the scriptural word. An example is the
Genesis story of the Garden of Eden and Kafka's A Report to the
Academy. Connecting the two is a setting forth of the Garden of
Eden story so that the connection with the Kafka story can be made
upon a first hearing by the congregation.

2. The reading of the scriptural word may be followed by a
poetic restatement of the Word interpreted through movement.
Heather Elkins, a Divinity student, wrote such a work as her inter-

126

pretation of the Martha and Mary story. Two women, Nancy
Rosebaugh of the Divinity School and Ann Dimn, a graduate stu-
dent, "bodied forth" the word through dance. This particular com-
munication had a very powerful impact on the worshipping com-
munity.

3. After the reading of a Biblical passage, the text is placed in
context and given a brief but sharp focus by the leader of worship.
The worshipping community is then invited to make verbal re-
sponses to the lessons. The interpretive statement helps direct the
discussions and keeps the comments pertinent and helpful. Such a
discussion is strengthened when the community has studied and
reflected on the passage before the time of worship.

4. Using the same basic approach as above, the community's re-
sponse can be meditation directed by a series of provocative state-
ments and questions. These ways of using scripture encourage the
congregation to become involved actively in worship. The liturgy
then becomes the work of the people.

Some people will intentionally come to a special or experimen-
tal service of worship, such as some of the above. But most people
do not want to be surprised or shocked by the unexpected. Such
an experience may limit their ability to \vorship. Thus we try to
indicate what the characteristic features of our services will be:
"Informal Worship," "Non-Sexist Liturgy," "Celebration of the
Eucharist," "Worship in Duke Gardens." People are informed
ahead as they rightly should be.

The role and status of women within the Church and society
is of critical importance for the Church today. How we deal with
this issue affects the Church as a worshijjping community very di-
rectly in two areas: first, with regard to the ordained ministry;
second, with regard to the use of masculine language and images
in the liturgy.

Some men and women who understand and appreciate the
primary importance of the ordained ministry's being open to
women see the question of language as a peripheral and diversion-
ary concern. There are other men and women who believe the use
of language to be very important, and they are committed to work
seriously and conscientiously to develop liturgies whidi are non-
sexist in language use. We have tclt that it is most important that
women not feel excluded from ^vorship because of sexist language.
The negative effects of sexist language may be both immediate (at
the moment of worship) and long-term (developing or sustaining

127

sexist images in children or others). We have found that there is
already a deep reservoir of theological \vords (Biblical and tradi-
tional) which express the faith in non-sexist terms. To use such
terms is a continuing affirmation of the centrality of the Bible and
of tradition and re-affirms the inclusive nature of the Church.
"There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free,
there is neither mah? nor female; for you are all one in Christ
Jesus." We try to use non-sexist language and deal with scripture
and with contemporary needs with both compassion and integrity.
Some parts of the service can be made non-sexist by careful
thought, genuine concern, and intentional word selection. Our
experience has been that the prayers and the sermon can be made
non-sexist in language without negative or harmful effects, but,
in fact, can have very positive, affirming, and inclusive effects. Some
of the changes in using non-sexist language have been difficult to
develop or painful to exjierience, and have brought some sharp
and hostile reactions. There is a continuing struggle to be open
to God's Spirit as this Spirit directs us in these changes, and to be
continuingly sensitive to those who do not care to change or for
whom worship is disrupted by such change. We feel this struggle
is consistent with the word of scripture, appropriate to the needs
and hurts of many men and women in our community, and well
worth enduring in order to let the Word continue to come alive
in our midst. Persons leading worship in Duke Chapel are given
instructions in leading worship which include the following re-
quest:

"In your leading of the service, we ask you not to use terms which refer
to God only in masculine terms. We have found, as you would know
already, that there arc way to address (Jod in personal terms which do not
use the masculine pronouns— /O Holy (iod. Circatnr. Redeemer, Sustaincr,
O Loving God, You). However, some people prefer using both male and
female pronouns— Parent, Mother/ lather, He/She. So we ask you to use
whatever is most comfortable for you and yel is non-sexist and inclusive
in meaning."

Many churches and communities are developing books of wor-
ship and hymnals which will be inclusive in language.* This de-
velopment is being made in ways in which inclusive language
facilitates rather than inhibits the worship of the congregation. But
since any change in liturgy may cause some discomfort for the wor-
shipping community, we who lead in worship will need to plan
the services and its distinct elements on the basis of our under-
standing of the demands of the gospel.

128

The Bible is central to Christian worship. We take seriously
this basic presupposition. Our experiences in the use of the Bible
in worship in the Chapel have been exciting, helpful, illuminating,
disturbing, demanding, changing, but consistently rewarding and
enlightening. God's Word is continually revealing itself to us in
new and creative ways. We are grateful for the interest and com-
mitment of our worshipping conmiunities .here in the Chapel and
for the new and deepening experiences we have shared. Our experi-
ences with the Word the past t^\•o and one-half years in the Chapel
give us continuing hope and promise for more richness and under-
standing in the fuiine. The Bible is central. In this affirmation we
rejoice!

*A sub-committee of the Baltimore Task Force on the status
of women in the Church (Roman Catholic) has published a Liturgy
for All People. The following instructions are given concerning the
use of scripture:

1) If the Scripture of the day calls for a passage with sexist atti-
tudes, there are two viable alternatives:

a. Substitute another passage.

b. Explain the passage carefully, e.g., Paul's cultural con-
ditioning, the assumptions of that era.

Do not use a sexist passage without explanation.

2) Readings — Read the Scriptures in sexually balanced lan-
guage. Just as we have adapted scriptural language to change
archaic usages to modern phrases, so it is proper to insert
sexually balanced language.

3) Prayers — Use sexually balanced language, e.g. Not "pray
brothers" but "pray brothers and sisters."

4) Be sensitive to major forms of sexist language in the church.

Sexism toward God — even though written in masculine
dominated cultures, the Scriptures show a Yahweh of
great range and vitality. Both feminine and masculine
characteristics were attributed. It is appropriate to use
both masculine and feminine terms to refer to and speak
about God. Jesus Avas obviously a man. The Spirit is a
person. Both masculine and feminine attributes are ap-
propriate. The Sj:)irit may also be referred to as an in-
definite person.

Book
Reviews

Anatomy of the New Testament: A Guide to Its Stnicture and Meanmg. Robert
A. Spivey and D. Moody Smith, Jr. Second edition. Macmillan, 1974. 539
pp. $10.95.

One of the gifts bequeathed to us by the general education movement was
the modern American college textbook: a comprehensive introduction to a large
field which distinguishes the major points, ignores the rest, and provides instant
interpretation, thus saving the student the need to retain what he has learned
and discover its significance over a short career of learning if not a longer life-
time of reading. 1 he general education movement has long since vanished, but
the textbook, wJiile frequently declared dead or at least senile, seems to survive
quite well. In many subjects it appears all but indispensable, and has become
a staple item. This now appears to be the case for the field of New Testament
interpretation. A series of excellent books has come from publishers in recent
years, indicating that the books are a routine part of the publishers' repertoire,
the courses for which they are intended a routine part of college, university and
seminary curricula.

It is curious that so many superior examples of the genre should be asso-
ciated with professors of New Testament at Duke University. Franklin VV. Young
is joint author (originally with Howard Kee, now also with Karlfried Froelich)
of Understanding the Neiv Testament (3rd ed., 1973); James Price has written
Interpreting the New Testament (2nd ed., 1971); and W. D. Davies published
Invitation to the New Testament in 1966. Perhaps it was inevitable that Moody
Smith should lay full claim to his New Testament position at Duke University
by writing, with his fellow Duke and Yale alumnus Robert Spivey (The Florida
State University), Anatomy of the Neiv 'Testament. Inevitable or not, was such
a book justifiable? The answer is obviously yes. I say obviously not only because
Anatomy (1969) is alreadv into the third printing of its .second edition (1974),
but also because Spivey and Smith have written a dilferent kind of book, one
which has a distinctive tone antl rationale which will appeal to many teachers
and students. It is deservedly successful.

Success in this realm is a subtler matter than might at first seem the case.
After one has solved the problem of scope ("How much of the New Testament
shall we read? ") and found the appropriate literary style (neither too breezy nor
too pedantic), picked the illustrations (those in this volume are particularly wel-
come because so many arc contemporary and Eastern) and found the proper level
of exposition (one <ainiot suppose the reader knows anything — given the demise
of general education — save how to be indignant if addressed as somebody who
knows nothing), success might seem to be within grasp. But it will elude all
but tliose who discern and solve the final riddle: How can you keep a book
which has mastered all these other tests from being inherently more coherent,
readable, and attractive than the text it seeks to introduce? The great liability
of even (especially?) good textbooks for New Testament interpretation is the
likelihood that they will be abused by students and teachers alike who will let
what started out as an aid to understanding become the text to be understood.
Since the primary text itself is craggy, full of little puzzles and sometimes a bit
obscure, the temptation is olnious. Spivey and Smith, however, are going to
keep their readers honest.

130

They begin with the usual background information ("The World of the
New Testament," pp. 5-74) on cultural and religious affairs in Judaism and the
larger Greco-Roman world. The first major division of the book (pp. 77-248)
comprises a study of the synoptic gospels and their picture of Jesus. One chapter
is devoted to each gospel, beginning with Mark, which itself is introduced by a
compact rehearsal of the synoptic problem and the basic perspectives of source,
form and redaction criticism.

For each gospel the authors provide a short outline or sketch of the anatomy
of the work, followed by headnotes dealing with specific literary and historical
problems. The initial outline makes clear which divisions of the gospel are to
be dealt with in detail in the subsequent exposition, and which sections will be
dealt with more summarilv. Thus, for example, the book provides a rather
thorough exposition of Mt. 1:1-2:23; 3:13-17; 5:17-20; 16:13-23; 18:15-22; 21:28-
46 and 25: 31-46. In doing so, it sets these passages in their wider context, but
also elicits from them what the authors regard as the most fundamental or
evident components of Matthew's overall interest, which they describe as "A
Radical Obedience." At the conclusion of the chapter the authors use their
initial outline of literary structure to check tlie results of their more detailed
exposition or exegesis. Do the parts contribute to what was initially described as
the whole, and does the whole help guard against the danger of one-sided
emphasis of some parts?

The results, I find, are unusually satisfying. The student is not given a
series of vague generalizations or lists of detached observations, but quite
specific texts which have been treated at some length and yet set in wider con-
texts which shape specific interpretations. Most important, the textbook be-
comes an organic extension of the text rather than a sunmiarized substitute for
it. To read the textbook itself is to deal seriously with the text, yet doing so
requires no previous introduction to the problems of New Testament interpre-
tation. Furthermore, reading the textbook invites reading the New Testament.

Concluding this redactionally-oriented treatment of the synoptic gospels is
a chapter designed to move beyond the limits imposed by such a literary ap-
proach and provide "A Portrait" of "Jesus the Messiah" (ch. 5, pp. 182-248).
Here Spivey and Smith seek to correlate a basic understanding of three areas
in the synoptic gospels — Jesus' miracles, his teachings, and his death — into a
single, reasonably unified and comprehensive portrait. Problems inherent in
such an effort are only magnified when the intended audience is as broad,
faceless, and heterogenous as a textbook's audience must be. What is even more
important than the results, because basic to the results, is the set of criteria
and principles by which judgments will be made in assessing the various texts.
In Anatomy these criteria and principles are reasonably clear. Two seem pri-
mary: the Church's picture of Jesus, which supplies our gospels, is continuous
with the historical figure, but not identical with him in his setting; and the
various elements of his portrait will satisfy normal demands for coherence.

In Part II ("The Early Church and Paul," pp. 249-375) we are given a
chapter on the Acts of the Apostles ("Witnessing to the World," pp. 253-287),
and two chapters on Paul. The first of these ("Paul: Apostle and Man of Faith,"
pp. 288-335) introduces some basic details of Paul's career through introductory
notes, and then turns to exposition of a series of central texts from I and II
Corinthians, Galatians, I I hessalonians, Philippians, and Colossians. The texts
chosen for discussion arc arranged according to topic and deal with the apostle
personally, with the concept of freedom in his gospel, and with the polemical
issues which Paul and his message both encountered and engendered. The con-
cluding chapter of this section provides an analysis of Romans ("Paul's Exposi-
tion of the Gospel, " pp. 336-375) which is concentrated on chs. 1-12, as might be

131

expected, and goes about as far as one can in making Paul's views both acces-
ible and internally colierent.

In Part III ("The Church and the World") the principle of selection has
been those texts which best illustrate the dilemmas of a young movement in,
but not of, the world. Chapter 9 (pp. 380-423) concentrates on the notion of the
church itself in its post-Pauline development as evidenced in Ephesians, I
Timothy, James, I Peter and Hebrews. The concluding chapter of this section
("Overcoming the World," pp. 42,5-87) deals with John's gospel (1:18; 9:1-41 and
17:1-26) as well as I John and Revelation. The authors do an excellent job in
showing the inner coherence which still makes the blanket term "Johannine
literature" seem to mean something, even while they set out clearly the difficul-
ties facing any traditional view of common authorship.

Concluding the entire book is a brief resume (pp. 491-7) which rehearses the
actual structure by which the analysis of the New Testament was undertaken,
itself a matter of taking structures, literary and historical, quite seriously. The
concluding coda of each chapter attempts to provide a comprehensive view of
the material which has been analyzed. The coda of the entire book makes the
same sort of effort for the entire New Testament, and reinforces the consistent
effort made by the authors to concentrate on specific NT texts and then help
the student place such specifics into a gradually expanding, coherent frame of
reference.

Supplementary aids, such as endpaper maps, have come to be virtually
mandatory in such texts and are included in this one. The glossary at the end
(pp. 498-506) is very well done and the bibliographies have had more than
routine care given to them. In addition to bibliographical information at the
end of each chapter, in an intelligently selective and annotated fashion, the
entire book concludes with bibliographic annotations under eight categories
ranging from "NT Texts" to a bibliography on bibliography, with helpful stops
at the history of primitive Christianity, history of criticism, New Testament
theology, etc., along the route. The subject index is acceptable, although in a
book of this sort the greater the detail the better, always remembering that one's
standards for indexing go in inverse proportion to one's responsibilities for com-
piling one. The Biblical index is particularly useful. From the point of view
of craftsmanship the second edition seems to me somewhat more spartan and
less pleasing than the first. Some errors remain to be expunged: "climatic," p.
84; "amoung," p. 215; "changes," p. 295; "It it," p. 451. "Adaption" on pp. ix,
X is a word unknown to me, and while it seems a clever hybrid, we can prob-
ably continue to survive without it. On p. 454 the word "paragraphing" is bar-
barous, but not incorrect. Seasoned form-critics will want to separate Smith
(Sm) from Spivey (Sp) in style and content. It can be done, but the overall
level of uniformity and readability is quite high, some few transitional para-
graphs being the most notable exceptions.

In summary, it is evident that this book has already made its place among
other books performing a similar task. This is because it has its own distinc-
tive excellence which is a genuine departure from earlier patterns of NT intro-
duction for colleges and seminaries. The scheme is not a gimmick, but a pro-
ductive and mildly coercive approach to textual interpretation which, like John
the Baptist, is quite clear about what is primary and what is secondary. Anatomy
of the New Testament introduces the New Testament itself clearly and in such
a way that it drives the student right into that book's central themes, problems
and realities.

— John Howard Schiitz
Department of Religion
U.N.C.-Chapel Hill

132

Kerygma and Comedy in the New
Testament: A Structuralist Approach
to Hermenuetic. Dan O. Via, Jr.
Fortress. 1975. 179 pp. $8.95.

When a friend of mine in graduate
school at Yale was asked by Professor
Kenneth Scott Latourette about the
subject of his Ph.D. dissertation, he
replied that he was writing on humor
in the Old Testament, to which the
venerable Latourette snorted and com-
mented: "Well, you certainly won't
find much humor in the New Testa-
ment." Piqued by this response, my
friend went on to expand his disserta-
tion to include the New Testament.

Interesting as this anecdote may be,
it has really nothing to do with Dan
Via's most recent book, which is about
the relationship of the New Testament
to comedy as a type of drama and to
what he calls comic genre. In no sense
does it deal with humor, and it is cer-
tainly not very funny. Via belongs
among the vanguard of those who are
attempting to apply the insights and
methods of the structuralist movement
to the interpretation of the New Tes-
tament. His present work is neverthe-
less also an extension of the same
hermeneutical interests which moti-
vated his earlier book on the interpre-
tation of the parables [The Parables:
Their Literary and Existential Dimen-
sion, Fortress, 1967) and of his efforts
to apply to the New Testament the
kind of literary criticism practiced out-
side the guild of Biblical scholarship.

Via's book is divided into four
chapters: "A Structuralist-Literary Ap-
proach to New Testament Hermeneu-
tic, " "Paul and the Comic Structure,"
"Approaching the Gospel of Mark,"
and "A Structural Analysis of the
Markan Narrative." It deals on the one
hand with the general question of the
nature of structuralism and its relation
to New Testament interpretation and
on the other with the structural analy-
sis of specific Pauline texts and the
Gospel of Mark.

Structuralism, as Via points out,
does not have to do with the formal
structure of various types of texts.

Rather "structure" refers to "the hid-
den or underlying configuration that
can offer some explanation for the
more or less visible or obvious pattern
in the text" (p. 7). The structure of
a text or document is not contained
by it. The text belongs to the struc-
ture rather than the other way around.
The structure is inferred or construc-
ted from texts, but the structuralist is
committed to the proposition that the
structure is in some significant sense
prior to any specific manifestation of
it. Via, in working from several NT
texts, hopes "to construct a structure
which will be a system of transforma-
tions or variations which contain
[italics mine] these and other possible
texts, which will disclose the kinds of
relationships between the texts, which
will not simply be a common denomi-
nator, which will be something other
than the texts themselves onto which
they can be projected but a something
of which they will seem like realiza-
tions, and which therefore will pro-
vide a basis for assessing the meaning
of the texts" (pp. 9-10).

Via discerns (and constructs) a comic
structure or genre into which certain
typical NT texts may be placed and
within which they may be better
understood. Hence the book's title.
This genre is not only common to
certain Pauline texts (e.g. I Cor. 1:18-
2:5; see p. 42, fig. #2), but also, broad-
ly speaking, to the Gospel of Mark
and a number of Markan texts. Cru-
cial to Via's structural analysis is the
kerygma of Christ's death and resur-
rection; it is fundamental both to
Pauls theologizing and to Mark's
narrative, which culminates in the pas-
sion. The kerygma finds its counter-
pait in the death and resurrection
theme of ancient Cheek religion and
derivative Greek drama. All belong
to or participate in a common comic
structure or genre. Ihis commonality,
i.e. common structure, far from de-
tracting from the unicjueness of the
Cihristian message allows that message
to come to expression and to be heard.
\'ia can call the comic genre "a deep
structure of the mind " and "a basic

133

sense of human life."

At ihis point we may observe how
Via's use of structuralist method differs
from the disciplines of Religionsge-
schichte (comparative history of reli-
gions) and form criticism. Unlike the
former it presupposes or hypothesizes
no necessary historical connections or
relationships between or among the
phenomena or documents in question
(i.e., Paul's letters, Mark, Greek reli-
gion and drama). Such a relationship
is perhaps undemonstrable and in any
event not required for the purposes of
structuralist analysis. The similarity
is explicable as the expression of a
common genre. But this genre is not
analogous to the various forms or
genres identified by form criticism (e.g.
controversy stories, miracle stories,
birth narrative, pronouncement stories,
etc.). In fact, the same structuralist
genre may be found in texts which
form criticism differentiates precisely
on the basis of, among other things,
formal structure. Thus such formally
different texts as a miracle story, a
controversy story, and the entire Gos-
pel of Mark participate in the comic
genre.

Structuralism is no more congenial
with redaction criticism than with
form criticism or Religionsgescliichte,
for redaction criticism as a method
also views texts as products of histori-
cal processes rather than as things in
themselves.

Via contends that redaction criticism
characteristically fragments the text
into tradition or source and redaction
in a manner utterly foreign and un-
natural to the reader. People do not
read by taking texts apart in that way.
Moreover, it frequently has recourse
to hypotheses about the setting and
causes or motivations behind the text
that are in the nature of the case
highly problematic.

In conclusion, a few critical observa-
tions. The use of structuralist method
implies theologically buying into a
view of reality and the human mind
which may be tantamount to a special
form of natural theology. This is not
necessarily bad, but the Biblical exe-

gete should at least be aware of this,
as Via in fact is. Thoroughgoing
structuralist method in the interpreta-
tion of Biblical texts could lead to the
denigration of their historical and
denotative dimensions. Via is aware
of this and does not himself disparage
those dimensions or the methods perti-
nent to them. It would be his con-
tention that structuralist interpreta-
tion brings out other aspects of texts,
which also illuminate the historical
dimension. The process of structural-
ist interpretation involves the forma-
tion of syntagms and paradigms
(graphic models) and the construction
of grids into which allegedly common
elements of texts are made to fit. As
Via acknowledges, some element of un-
controllable subjectivity is involved in
tliis procedure. There is always a
danger that such "grids" may become
procrustean beds into which texts are
forced.

Via's book is doubtless intended to
initiate and facilitate discussion of
structuralist interpretation of the New
Testament. It should do just that.
While it may perhaps produce as many
questions and objections as fruitful
exegetical insights, it is nevertheless a
welcome and timely contribution to
the hermeneutical discussion.

D. Moody Smith

The Literature of the Bible. Leland
Ryken. Zondervan. 1974. 368 pp.
$7.95.

There is "blowing in the wind" (to
coin a phrase!), a yearning among
some persons in the area of Biblical
studies for some new methodology
which will release the study of the
Bible from the burden of sterile
scholarship; a new method that will
take into account and help to unlease
the power of the Biblical message.
One of the directions this search is
taking is in the area of a literary ap-
proach to the Biblical records. By
literary is not meant the historical-
critical methodology which so many
of our students, both past and present,
have learned, but literary in the sense
that the Biblical books are approached

134

as literature and examined as one
would examine any literary work as
to type of literature (comic and
tragic), plot motifs, and other consid-
erations such as these which aid in
understanding the nieanwg and mes-
sage of the writing.

Most of the impetus for this move
ment, so far at least, has come from
outside the field of Biblical studies,
mainly from persons in the area of
English literature. The present author,
Leland Ryken, is an English professor.
Some other works have appeared (and
may be of interest to our readers) such
as Helen Gardiner, The Business aj
Criticism (Oxford), and a newly edited
book from Abingdon Press, Literary
Interpretations of Biblical Narratives
(ed. by R. R. Gros Louis, with J. S.
Ackerman and T. S. \V'arshaw, 1974).
To this latter volume Professor Ryken
has also contributed, and the reading
of that article is strongly recom-
mended.

According to Ryken, literature is
experiential but "not only presents
experience but also interprets it" (p.
13). Literature is ". . . an interpre-
tative presentation of experience in
an artistic form" (p. 13). The point
is that too often Biblical scholars have
failed to understand that the Bible is
a collection of books each of which
expresses the emotional and experi-
ential dimension of the writer or
editor. .Vnd each of these works falls
into one of the categories of literature.

Using as a basis the concept of the
"archetype," Ryken examines various
Biblical stories. The archetype is
". . . a symbol, character type, or plot
motif that has recurred throughout
literature. . . . Archetypal criticism is
one of the most fruitful approaches
to biblical literature . . ." (p. 22).
"The archetypal content of the Bible
gives it not only unity but univer-
sality as well. Archetypes express what
is most common and elemental in
human experience" (p. 25). These
archetypes can be divided into two
groups, the ideal (comic) and the im-
ideal (tragic).

Having set down his basic ideas as

to method, the author then applies
these principles to various Biblical
works. He examines the story of
origins, some heroic narrative, epic,
tragedy, poetry, wisdom, satire, gospel,
parable, and epistle to cite the major
topics. In each case literary method-
ology and categories are utilized to
illustrate the message of the texts
under consideration. And it must be
said that the work is \ery readable and
enjoyable.

'I'he major negative criticism is, alas,
that Professor Ryken is not (and does
not claim to be) a Biblical scholar.
There are many instances where ele-
mentary acquaintance with Biblical
scholarship would have enhanced the
aiuhor's point or saved him from some
\Liy glaring errors. For example, in
his discussion of Job, Ryken makes
much of the "Redeemer" or Go'el pas-
sage. Too much in fact, for he argues
that Job l^elieves in an afterlife and
attains a "blessed hope" (pp. 114-115).
The opposite is true which is why Job
despaiisl

Ryken further argues that Jesus had
great "oratorical ability" (p. 293). \Vith
this comment we probably would not
quarrel, but he bases his conviction
on the illustration of the Sermon on
tiie Moimt which is an arrangement
made by the author of the Gospel!
Ryken gives no indication that he is
aware that these chapters are a com-
posite work! But much of what he
says about the Sermon, however, is
quite good!

The above illustrations could be
multiplied, but these should suffice to
make the point. What Professor Ryken
is attempting to do is, in the opinion
of this revic-iver, very sound and much
needed, but what is needed more is
someone to do this task who is knowl-
edgeable in Biblical content and criti-
cism. As usual the extremes of either
approach do not fill the bill. Not
much can be said for Biblical criticism
which has little feeling for the mes-
sage or this type of literary approach
with little knowledge of Biblical back-
ground.

— James M. Efird

135

Hosea. Hermeneia Commentary Series.
Hans Walter Wolff. Fortress Press.
1974. 259 pp. $19.95.

Hermeneia is a new commentary
series currently being prepared by
scholars of international reputation.
(Prof. Roland Murphy of Duke Divin-
ity School is a member of the editorial
board.) A few volumes will be trans-
lations of works already in print (e.g.,
this, the first Old Testament volume
of the series to appear, is a translation
of Dodekaprapheton /, BKAT XIV/1
[1965]).

The volume consists of an Introduc-
tion (11 pp. dealing with such matters
as background, language, theology, and
transmission of the text); discussion
of the biblical text; a topically ar-
ranged general bibliography; and in-
dexes to subject matter and passages
discussed.

The biblical text is divided into
units ("rhetorical" and "kerygmatic")
and discussed under the following
headings: bibliography; (a new) trans-
lation; text-critical notes upon which
the translation is based; form; setting;
verse-by-verse interpretation; and aim.

The text-critical notes will be most
appreciated by those who have had
an introduction to the biblical lan-
guages, but tliey need not deter those
who will use only an English text.
Indeed, they will help such readers to
understand why translations differ so
widely in this book (which, for diffi-
culty, is rivaled only by Job).

In general, Wolff is moderate in his
textual treatment, tending to read
with the Masoretic text in most cases
as against the ancient versions. Occa-
sionally, however, a Ijlunder in sound
text-critical judgment is encountered
(e.g., at 2:6 [Hebrew 2:8]; 4:19; 10:5).
Especially helpful are Wolff's conjec-
tural explanations for apparent vari-
ants in the Septuagint, e.g., at 2:15
[Heb. 2:17], where the original "vine-
yards" has been generalized into "pos-
sessions" for non-agricultural city-
dwelling readers during the Jewish
diaspora.

Wolff's discussion of "form" is in-

sightful; indeed, such discussion is now
a standard component of commentary
presentation. It is this scholarly tool,
as much as any other, which is ren-
dering obsolete the commentaries of
previous generations.

Plausible assignment of date to in-
di\idual oracles and reconstruction of
tlie situation to which each might
have been addressed enables Wolff to
give an unusually clear portrait of the
development of Hosea's thought. For
example, in chapter 4-11 (a once in-
dependent complex of traditions, later
joined with two others, 1-3 and 12-14),
initial ultimatums to repent, accom-
panied by announcements of doom,
were followed by the realization that
judgment cannot affect obedience.
Even the catastrophic Assyrian in-
vasion of 733 B.C. did not accomplish
this. God's love (Hosea is the first to
use this word to describe God's atti-
tude toward Israel) transcends his
wrath, and this is the ground for
Israel's hope (as opposed to a hypo-
thetical ability to change her priori-
ties, i.e., to "repent"). Hence the
prophet anticipates a new beginning,
accompanied by the return of those
who now dwell in foreign lands (see
csp. pp. 201-204).

Unfortunately, Wolff's discussion of
another complex of traditions, chap-
ters 12-14, obscures his understanding
of the development of Hosea's thought.
In chapters 12-13 one finds announce-
ment of God's jutlgment in the form
of dismantlement of cultic and po-
litical institutions; God refuses to be
compassionate. Then, in chapter 14,
we find an announcement of salvation.
The question which Wolff fails to
clarify sufficiently is this: What is the
relationship between the complexes
4-11 and 12-14? Do they reflect the
same development in Hosea's thought,
or do they reflect sequential stages?
If the former is the case, then the
anticipated dismantlement (which
proved to be disfunctional) would have
been fulfilled by the events of 733
B.C. Presumably, Hosea's new opti-
mism after that date would not have
included the Destruction of the re-

136

mainder of the country in 721. Or is
it that the new proclamation of God's
love allowed for hope even after 721?
If, on the other hand, the complex
12-14 represent a later stage in Hosea's
thought, then his optimism about a
new beginning was shattered by the
transgressions of his people, leading
to a renewed proclaniation of judg-
ment beyond which salvation is pos-
sible.

Wolff's reconstruction of Hosea's
hope for the future may be compared
and contrasted with that of James
Ward {Hosea. Harper and Row, 1966).
Whereas Wolff states that "it also
became clear [to Hosea] that Yahweh's
judgment could not luring Israel to
obedience" (p. xxix), Ward's Hosea
believes that destruction of the present
institutions is a 7iecessary precondition
for repentance and liope: "Nowhere
tloes he offer redemption apart from
national disaster" (p. 30; see also pp.
17ff.); such an experience "may lead
to the re-creation of a covenantal
community if she [Israel] proves . . .
that she can accept Yahweh faithfully"
(p. 59). Whereas Wolff states that, for
Hosea, "Yahweh's judgment and mercy
stand in conflict" (p. 204), for Ward's
Hosea the two attributes of God can-
not be separated so .simplistically:
Gods judgment may be a manifesta-
tion of his graciousness; the impend-
ing destruction is another instance of
C;ods unrelenting will to create a peo-
ple for himself; while love stands op-
posed to wrathful retribution, it need
not lead to a suspension of judgment
(pp. 204ff.). However, Wolff and Ward
agree that Hosea understands God's
love (regardless of the manifestation
it may take) to be the ground for
Israel's hope.

Wolff's sections entitled "Aim" usu-
ally conclude with some mention of
the relationship between Hosea's
thought and that of various New
Festament writers. This is an area so
fraught with difficulty that many
reputable connnentarics avoid it (and
one often wisiies that many of the
others had done so). A recent and
responsible effort in this direction is

Brevard Child's The Book of Exodus
(Westminster, 1974). Wolff's remarks
are insightful, but the sensitive reader
may note a repeated evaluative tone:
the NT discussion is "more compre-
hensive" (p. 29); Hosea's words are
"limited and preparatory" (p. 204), and
tliey direct us to "the Lord of all his-
tory, whom we recognize in Christ"
(p. 218); only in the NT does God's
offer of salvation come with "finality"
(p. 177); the judgment which Hosea
announced was "only the beginning
of that judgment which "the daughter
of Jerusalem' brought upon herself in
the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth"
(p. 169). It is fair to point out, how-
ever, that Wolff is only echoing as-
sertions which the NT itself makes.

In conclusion: the volume reflects
excellent scholarship and is highly
to be recommended (but more so for
the scholar than for the pastor, espe-
cially if the latter has not had an in-
troduction to Hebrew). For the pastor,
the standard work on Hosea is still
that of Ward (which, unfortunately,
is out of print).

— Lloyd Bailey

Taii^itJii and Testament: Ara)naic
Paraphrases of the Hebrew Bible: A
Light on the New Testament. Mar-
tin McNamara. Eerdmann's 1972.
227 pp. .'j>3.45 paperback.

The author of this book, who has
earlier produced a more technical
work. The New Testament and the
Palestinian Targum to the Pe?itateiich,
belongs to a growing circle of scholars
attempting to illuminate the New
lestament through an investigation of
ilie targinns.

The targums are those -Aramaic
paraphrases and translations of the
Hebrew Bible made in anliciuity for
tlie I)enefit of .\ramaic-spcaking Jews
wlio could not ade(iuately understand
Hebrew. Hebrew had, of course,
ceased to be the daily language of most
Jews in or shortly after the exilic
])eriod. Jesus, in all probability spoke
Aramaic as his native tongue.

The earliest translations of the

137

Bible were oral, not written, and for
some time the writing of the Aramaic
translation was frowned upon. Exactly
when the oral tragums first became
written documents (and how ancient
are the translations or traditions of
translation which survive in extant
targimis) is a good question and one
that McNamara discusses in this book.
He belie\es that the Palestinian Tar-
gum of the Pentateuch, particularly
as represented by the recently discov-
ered Codex Neofiti I in the Vatican
Library, is very ancient. There is no
question of the late, i.e., medieval,
date of most extant manuscripts. The
real question has to do with the an-
tiquity of the translations they em-
body. McNamara contends that strik-
ing doctrinal and verbal similarities
with the New Testament, among other
considerations, suggest an early date
for the Palestinian Targum. Whether
or not that is so will doubtless be a
matter of continuing debate, although
the importance of this area of investi-
gation, for its own sake and for the
importance it may have for New
Testament study, is undeniable.

Targum and Testament also con-
tains a valuable discussion of the for-
mation of the Targumic tradition in
the setting of synagogue worship and
a useful appendix giving a brief intro-
duction to the various targums.

— D. Moody Smith

The Dau'n of Apocalyptic. Paul D.
Hanson. Fortress. 1975. 426 pp.
.1>14.95.

This lucid and scholarly volume was
written originally as a doctoral dis-
sertation at Harvard University, where
the author is presently teaching. It
puts forth a new understanding of
Jewish apocalyptic, arguing against
the common view that sees it as dis-
continuous with Israelite prophecy
and as the fruit of Persian dualism
and Hellenism.

Theie are two key definitions that
show the path traveled by this study.
Hanson defines prophetic eschatology
as "a religious perspective which

focuses on the prophetic announce-
ment to the nation of the divine plans
for Israel and the world which the
prophet had witnessed unfolding in
the divine council and which he trans-
lates into the terms of plain history,
real politics, and human instrumen-
tality" (p. 11). It is the prophet
Isaiah who best exemplifies prophetic
eschatology, because he interprets for
king and people how his vision of the
plans of the divine council actually
works in history.

Apocalyptic eschatology is born in
Is. 56-66 and develops in Zech. 9-10,
Is. 24-27 ("early apocalyptic"), and is
full-blown in Zech. 11-14. It is defined
as "a religious perspective which
focuses on the disclosure (usually eso-
teric in nature) to the elect of the
cosmic vision of Yahweh's sovereignty
— especially as it relates to his acting
to dcli\cr his faithful — which dis-
closure the visionaries have largely
ceased to translate into the terms of
plain history, real politics, and human
instrumentality due to a pessimistic
view of reality growing out of the
bleak post-exilic conditions . . ." (p.
11).

What accounts for the de^-elopment
of prophetic into apocalyptic eschatol-
ogy? It is the breakdown of the ten-
sion between vision and history, be-
tween the vision of the divine plan,
and its actualization in history. This
is manifest in Is. 56-66, and in post-
exilic prophecy. The visionary ele-
ment of early apocalyptic gradually
becomes predominant. Why? Because
of the disappointments of the post-
exilic community. No one was able
to maintain "the belief that the ful-
fillment of the vision of Yahweh's
restoration of his people could occur
within the context of this world" (p.
26). History ceases to be the area
where the vision of the divine plan
is worked out. Vision alone remains,
a return to myth. Kings and nations
are no longer instruments of divine
purpose; they arc "mere pawns in a
cosmic chess game," as the Divine
Warrior comes upon the scene and
takes over.

138

The above concise summary needs
to be supplemented by Hanson's state
ment of his "contextual-typological"
methodology, which "seeks to inter-
pret the apocalyptic compositions
within the context of community
struggle discernible behind the ma-
terial studied, and it applies typo-
logical tools in analyzing the material.
The typologies traced are those of
poetic structure and meter, of pro-
phetic oracle types (genres), and of
the prophetic csthatology-apocalyptic
eschatology continuum" (p. 29). Han-
son applies this methodology in great
detail to texts of Is. 40ff., Ezek. 40-48,
Hag. and Zech. He succeeds in re-
constructing the conflict between a
visionary group (faithful to the tradi-
tion of Second Isaiah, and identified
with Levitcs) and the hierocratic or
Zadokite party which prevailed in the
Restoration. Tlie latter was not averse
to using vision for their own purpose
of legitimation (e.g., Zech. 1-8), but
their orientation is on the practical,
political level. The defeated group
has recourse to the vision of the Divine
Warrior who fights for them (e.g.,
Zech. 11-14) — in a fully developed
apocalyptic eschatology.

This very competent and important
study will become fundamental in all
future discussion of biblical apocalyp-
tic.

— Roland E. Murphy

A Theology of the Neiu Testament.
George Eldon Ladd. Eerdmann's.
1974. 661 pp. $12.50.

This volume should be of interest
to the readers of the Review for sev-
eral reasons. First, it is one of the
very few New Testament theologies
which has been attempted by Ameri-
can scholarship. Secondly the author
is a leading scholar of the conserva-
tive-evangelical school of interpreta-
tion, which means that his approach
is much more positive toward the New
Testament records than most of what
passes for New Testament interpre-
tation today. And thirdly, the book
is quite readable, scholarly, and con-

tains a large amount of valuable bib-
liographical data.

Intended to ". . . introduce seminary
students to the discipline of New
Testament theology," but not to offer
'. . . an original contribution or to
solve difficult problems . . ." (p. 5).
this volume nevertheless does the
former quite well and the latter much
better than the author would lead us
to believe. Structurally the book is
divided into six major sections: 1) The
Synoptic (.ospels; 2) The Fourth Gos-
pel; 3) The Primitive Church; 4) Paul;
.")) The General Epistles; and 6) The
Apocalypse. Under each section prob-
lems are discussed, and a consideration
of the leading themes and topics fol-
lows. In each category extensive bibli-
ograpliy is provided.

One may not always agree with
Ladd, but the reader will know where
Ladd stands. In fact there are times
when his writing is a breath of fresh
air in the hypercritical world of New
Testament scholarship so dominated
picscutly ijy "negative" Germanic ideas
and concepts. Ladd attempts to strike
some balance in the picture and views
the New Festament records with re-
spect and a positive attitude toward
their general reliability. For example
in setting the background for Paul's
thought he says, "Neither the his-
torical nor the kerygmatic aspects of
the word of God can be emphasized
to the neglect of the other" (p. 390).
This is Ladd's basic approach through-
out the book, however, not simply in
his exposition of Paul's thought.

Further, he challenges some of the
currently "accepted" (though not
pro\ed) ideas prevalent in New Testa-
ment circles especially some of those
which are related to the person of
Jesus and the "Son of Man." For ex-
ample, he argues that the term "Son
of Man" was not used by Jesus as a
designation of a figure who is to come
in the future and then applied to
)esus by tlie early Church. "Fhe idea
that the Son of Man might be an
eschatological figure other than Jesus
— the prevailing view in German the-
ology— is exceedingly difficult because

139

there is no scrap of evidence that Jesus
expected one greater than himself to
come, but there is much evidence to
the contrary" (p. 153). "There is no
evidence in the entire New Testament,
aside from the presuppositions of an
extreme form criticism, that the early
church called Jesus the Son of Man"
(p. 337).

Naturally a person of Ladd's theo-
logical stance will have a more posi-
tive attitude toward the historical
validity of the New Testament writ-
ings. For example in his discussion of
the resurrection he says: "something
happened to create m the disciples
belief in Jesus' resurrection. Here is
the crucial issue. It was not the dis-
ciples' faith that created the stories of
the resurrection; it was an event lying
behind these stories that created the
faith" (p. 320). But lest anyone think
that Professor Ladd is reverting to a
literal "historicity" type approach, the
reader should hear what he says about
the resurrection. "Bultmann says that
the resuscitation of a corpse is in-
credible. Even if this should be a
valid objection, it carries no weight,
for the New Testament does not pic-
ture the resurrection of Jesus in terms
of the resuscitation of a corpse, but as
the emergence within time and space
of a 7ieu' order of life" (p. 323).

Overall, this book provides much
information and stimulates further
reflection on issues of interpretation.
It is an encyclopedia of New Testa-
ment thought and scholarship. A work
like this deserves a topical index
which it lacks.

For the parish minister this New
Testament theology will probably be
more beneficial and useful than any
other available today. This book is
strongly recommended for analysis and
reflection.

— James M. Efird

The Bible Belt Mystique. C. Dwight
Borough. Westminster. 1974. 217
pp. $7.95.

Years ago, while delivering a lecture
to the Duke Divinity community, Ken-

neth Scott Latourette, renowned Pro-
fessor of Christian Missions at Yale
Divinity School, chided Protestant
graduate students in religion for what
lie considered their slavish penchant
ior New England theological history
and admonished them to pay more
attention to religious leaders in the
Soutii, particularly those who had the
greatest appeal for the common man.
Professor Dorough's little book, which
focuses upon tlie origin and nature of
the "old-time religion" in the South
in the 1780-1850 period and its twen-
tieth-century "manifestations and
elFccts, ' is written with that end in
view. Designed "primarily for the lay-
man, not for the church historian," it
is, essentially, the product of thirty
years of research into the religion and
literature of the South, happily em-
bellished with the author's current
observations and reminiscences from a
childhood in northeast Texas.

The sympathetic phenomenological
treatment of "Soutiiern religiousness"
is worthy of praise, notably in its de-
tailed description of camp meetings,
the theological and emotional charac-
ter ol frontier revivalism, and the
recognition of the sterling character
and influence of the generality of its
pulpiteers. While Dorough faithfully
chronicles the grievous blemishes in
the old-time religion — its bitter cen-
soriousness, sectarianism, intolerance,
anti-intellcctualism, and the like — he
generously recognizes that it served
the high purpose of taming a lawless
people, restoring order and direction
to derelict souls, and supporting fron-
tier democracy. Here one easily dis-
cerns the peculiar sources of strength
and vitality that contributed to jahe-
nomenal growth of religion in the
South and moulded the character of
the frontier man in the pulpit. In his
concluding chapter, with evident ap-
probation, Dorough quotes from a 1897
address by Walter Hines Page: "I
doubt if we have ever produced other
men as great as our pioneer preachers.
They were cast in so large a mould,
they dealt so directly with the funda-
mental emotions of men and with

140

some of the great facts of the spiritual
Hfe, that they almost ranged them-
selves with the giants. I had rather
have known one of these men than
all the political and military heroes
that we have since bred. The poli-
tician has been much the greater pop-
ular hero, but the preacher has had
much the greater influence. For a
century he was by far our greatest
man — the man of tlie greatest original
power and of the strongest character."
Professor Dorougli kindly refrains
from lecturing us at this point, though,
in fairness, he might have done so.
Most of the pioneer preachers about
whom he speaks had no formal semi-
nary training.

Interestingly, as the contents of the
book shift from description of the older
faith to some of the "recent examples"
with which the author is familiar, to
this reviewer, at least, its tone appears
less sympathetic, and considerable at-
tention falls negatively, and perhaps
deservedly, upon what has been bi-
zarre, eccentric, fraudulent, misguided,
cantankerous, and extreme in Southern
twentieth-century religion. In the
chapter entitled, "Sensationalism and

Excesses," snake handlers and faith-
healers seem ecjually yoked with "God's
radio salesmen," "Brother Al" and
"Reverend Ike." The subsequent chap-
ter on "Emotionalism in Education
and Politics" places the current public
ilap over the content of school text-
books in the wholly pejorative context
of the Scopes Monkey Trial in Ten-
nessee. This terminal section, though
both interesting and informative and
replete with pertinent anecdotes and
illustrative material, is too loosely or-
ganized and rambling, and insufficient-
ly analytical to achieve the kind of
terminal evaluation the subject de-
serves. Also, the random content of
the subject matter makes the absence
of an index the more regrettable.

Professor Dorough's contribution to
the study of the old-time religion in
the South and its contemporary mani-
festations should be received with ap-
preciation and respect by the scholarly
community. In fact, it may well be
that church historians will look upon
riic Bible Belt Mystique with greater
s)nipalhy and favor than many of the
laymen for whom the book is intended.
Barney L. Jones

THE
UKE

DIVINITY SCHOOL
REVIEW

Fall 1976

THE
DUKE
DIVINITY SCHOOL
REVIEW

Volume 41 Fall 1976 Number 3

CONTENTS

Happy Birthday! 143

Reminiscences, Recollections, and Reflections 147

James G. Huggin
McMurry S. Rickey
Charlotte Churchill Brown
W. Denver Stone
C. Randal James
Leonard V. Lassiter, Jr.

Ecumenism and Some Currents of Theology Today 167

by Robert E. Cushman

The Bible in Pastoral Counseling 178

by Richard A. Goodling

Theological Reflections on the Reformation

and the Status of Women 197

by David C. Steinmetz

Focus on Faculty 208

by William H. Willimon and B. Maurice Ritchie

Book Reviews 213

Editor: Creighton Lacy; Associate Editors: Lloyd Bailey, Donn
Michael Farris, Terry Matthews, Roland Murphy, Helen Neinast,
Charles Robinson, William Willimon.

Published three times a year (Winter, Spring, Fall)
by the Divinity School of Duke University

Postage paid at Durham, North Carolina 27706

Happy Birthday

In the year of bicentennials (the United States of America and
the CaroHna Circuit of Methodism), in the year of Olympics and
elections, another anniversary must not go unnoted. On Novem-
ber 9, 1926, the School of Religion of Duke University was formally
inaugurated, although classes had started with the new academic
year two months earlier.

The annual catalogue for Duke University in 1926-1927 stated
(among other things in its 595 pages):

Among those for whom his gift was intended Mr. Duke placed ministers
first. He felt sure that his native state of iNorth Carolina, with its varied
demands, stood in need first of a better educated and more efficiently
trained ministry. The organization of the School of Religion of Duke
University, the first of the professional schools to start its work, is the
carrying out of this intention on the part of Mr. Duke. . . . Members of
all other Christian denominations, as well as Methodist, will be made to
feel welcome in the School of Religion and may be assured that the basis
on which the work is conducted is broadly catholic and not narrowly
denominational.

Christian work has now expanded to the extent that it covers far more
than the work of a preacher or minister. The School of Religion of Duke
University purposes to offer training for all types of Christian service. This
will include missionaries, teachers of Bible and other religious subjects in
the schools and colleges of the Church, directors of religious education, and
social workers. . . . Still it must be kept clear that the minister in charge
of a church, who is placed before the people to preach the Gospel of
Christ, is the center and key to the whole problem of Christian work in
the church. . . .

It is sincerely desired and expected that the standards thus set may
increasingly influence the type of men and women entering Christian work
and may lead them to demand the best of themselves in the prosecution of
the work of Christ among men. . . . Students in the School of Religion are
expected to take part in the religious and social life of the University
campus and to share in athletic interests and activities. . . . They must
satisfy the faculty as to their Christian character and purpose. • • •

At mid-century the campus, the buildings, the students, the
faculty, the curriculum, the Church, and the world have undergone
drastic and dramatic change. In planning this Anniversary Issue

143

144

of The Duke Divinity School Review (formerly Bulletin) the
editorial committee decided against a detailed, extensive chronol-
ogy of past events. Historically-minded readers are referred to
"Four Decades of the Divinity School" by Kenneth Willis Clark
(The Duke Divinity School Review, Spring, 1967, Vol. 32, No. 2,
pp. 160-183).

We chose instead to invite representative graduates from each
decade to recall the highlights — and the low moments? — of their
seminary careers at Duke. As we hoped, they have produced a
wide variety of perspectives and emphases, indicative of the wide
range of outlooks and ministries which characterized Duke Divinity
graduates through the years.

. . . Jim Huggin, incredibly but actively retired, has been a distinguished
and influential leader in the Western North Carolina Annual Conference,
now living in Charlotte;

. . . Mac Richey, bearing three Duke degrees, serves as Director of Con-
tinuing Education as well as Professor of Theology and Christian Nurture
in the Divinity School;

. . . Charlotte Brown, still busy as parsonage wife and mother in the
North Carolina Conference, has taken up a new career in Special Education
of disadvantaged and mentally retarded children;

. . . Denver Stone is a versatile — and demonstrably hospitable! — mission-
ary of the Board of Global Ministries, previously in Indonesia and Malaysia,
currently in Singapore;

. . . Randy James, after an effective campus ministry at University
Church in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, is enrolled in the doctoral program at
Southern Methodist University;

. . . Leonard Lassiter, who matriculated in January of this year and has
been working in a Presbyterian Church in Greensboro for summer Field
Education, points the current student body into the second semicentenary.

For the rest of this number the committee decided to focus on
the present and future of theological education and its relevance
for contemporary ministry. Faculty members from the various
curricular divisions were asked to relate their own particular dis-
cipline to some issue in the life of the Church: Robert Cushman
on theology and the ecumenical movement, Richard Goodling on
the Bible and pastoral counseling, David Steinmetz on historical
factors affecting the role of women in the church. (Professor Good-
ling's paper was prepared for the previous number of the Review
on the use of the Bible in various theological disciplines, but had

145

to be postponed on account of space limitations; it appears here
as a flitting representative of the Ministerial Studies Division in
the curriculum.)

Fifty years of physical, academic, and hopefully spiritual growth.
Fifty years of steady advancement to a place among the very top
ranks of theological seminaries. Fifty years of service to Christ by
the training of his ministers and disciples. At the Faculty Retreat
which inaugurated this new term we engaged in "Reflections and
Conversations: Past, Present, and Future." Among the discussion
questions submitted by the Dean and his planning committee, here
are some of the more provocative:

Do you believe that Duke Divinity School is one of the five best semin-
aries in the United States? Why or why not?

How would you describe Duke Divinity School? Does this description
satisfy you? If not, how would you like to change it?

For what are we best known? For what do we wish we were best known?

What do we believe are our strengths and our weaknesses? What do we
not do at all that needs to be done?

What is our responsibility to the church, the university, society, our
students, each other, and the United Methodist Church?

As a Divinity School, what should be our vocation — for what purpose
and ends are we called?

What is the future of an ecumenical, university-based, research-oriented
Divinity School? What challenges will such schools face in the future? Is
Duke such an institution? In what ways do we want to be such an insti-
tution? Why or why not?

What are the frontiers in Christian thought and mission today? In terms
of those frontiers are we being pioneers? How?

What do you believe is the primary challenge facing the Christian com-
munity in the future? What are we at Duke doing to address or prepare
to address that challenge?

Functionally, what is our image of the Christian ministry? What three
ministerial roles does our program emphasize? Do you support these under-
standings? If not, what image and roles do you desire and what would we
need to do to make them central to our M.Div. program?

How well do we know the various needs of our diverse student body?
Describe each group in detail. How well do we meet these needs? How
could we improve?

How well do our students learn what we aim to teach? How best can
we evaluate our teaching and our students' learning? What criteria should
we use?

146

What sort of Christian ministers do we graduate? In what ways do we
wish we could do a more satisfactory job in preparing them for ministry in
today's world? How might we do this?

Reflecting on the M.Div. degree, what does it mean? What does it
certify? To whom are we responsible? As a theological faculty, for what
(in terms of our graduates) are we responsible?

As we move into the second half century of the Duke Univer-
sity Divinity School, we invite our graduates and friends to join
us in the quest for answers to at least some of these questions.

And to each and all we say: Many Happy Returns. . . .!

— C.L.

Reminiscences, Recollections,
and Reflections

James G. Huggin, B.D., 1929:

Venerable but still serviceable buildings on the Trinity College
campus were coming down and in their places were rising new
ones of red brick and white marble to house the recently-born
Duke University. The sound of air hammers and cranes, bull
dozers and trucks and shouting workmen was not inappropriate,
so we felt, for students of divinity in an age when much in thought
and life was coming down to give place to the new. The School of
Religion (as it was called at first) was new. Being new it was free
of old, encrusted doctrines and methods — or so we thought, we
students of the first class, all thirteen of us, together with, one
suspected, the majority of our nine professors.

The sights and sounds of construction were symbolic of the tide
of idealism then sweeping the campuses of the nation. Students
all over the place were signing pledges not to participate in war,
any war, from that time forth; for were not the statesmen fashion-
ing a world in which, never again, should war be "an instrument
of national policy"? Churches were caught up in the tide of con-
fidence, indeed helped to create such a tide. What a time to be a
student in a new school of theology that was a new kind of school,
to be equipped for ministry in churches which surely couldn't wait
for us to get to them and show the Truth, the Way and the Life
in the new era!

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven!

There is no measuring the influence of that body of teachers in
that center of learning where we students became aware of the
direction our ministry should take. I recall my own feeling of
inadequacy for the ministerial task the year between college and
seminary, which I spent teaching in the public school. Three years
later, however, outfitted with a Bachelor of Divinity degree from
Duke, I had at least double the confidence in my preparation that
was seemly for anyone. Allowing for all the erosion of self-
assurance that the acids of the pastoral ministry so quickly — and

148

mercifully — effect, still, to this good day, I look to my theological
education at Duke (together with a six-month introduction at
Candler) as the sheet anchor which has held my craft steady in
many an emergency these years of my voyage.

If some of us graduated with an overblown confidence in our
ability to work miracles in local churches, the new faculty in the
new seminary had something to do with it. B. Harvie Branscomb
and Paul Neff Garber were in this alumnus' judgment and experi-
ence, the two who most persuasively fired the students with the
apocalyptic spirit. "Harvie," to take him first, was to us an awe-
somely bright star in the academic firmament of younger scholars.
And, to brighten his glow, he was with us because, as the report
had it, S.M.U. had summarily dismissed him from its theological
school faculty for being too liberal. The Fundamentalist-Modernist
controversy was yet indulged in by dwellers along, as we saw it,
certain backwaters of the Church's life, but "we few, we happy
few" were well past that as we shared this seminary-sponsored
heady entrance into the modern world. Professor Branscomb was
a major asset among us, being a top scholar and all that. Best of
all, he was unacceptable in Texas!

And there was Paul Neff Garber. The only one-hundred-per-
cent Methodist on the faculty, affirmed Dr. Gilbert Rowe. Profes-
sor Garber was a convert to Methodism who had gone all the way,
an uncritical, unqualified, unconditional Methodist. He adored
Methodist history, he all but worshipped John Wesley, and he
displayed a rapturous confidence that graduates of the Duke School
of Religion would themselves, single-handedly, redeem the Church's
ancient liturgical promise to edify believers and convert the world.

We were limited in many respects in those first years, yet I think
we enjoyed an advantage. Our purpose was single, simple, clear.
We were working together, students and faculty, that we students
might become effective pastors of churches. We were unmistakably
taught that our life's mission was to bring to people under our
care the claims of the Christian Gospel, claims derived from the
transcendent, righteous God, whose demands were not only, among
humans, to do justly and love mercy, but also, unashamedly, to
walk humbly with our God. This was our burden. This was our
freedom.

Once in my student days a close friend, Jim Phillips, and I
were downtown in Durham when we met up with a friend of his.
I was introduced. Then Jim said of his friend, not without a trace

149

of understandable envy, "He's a business man. He doesn't have
to save the world." We were seminary students. We were headed
for the ministry of the Church. We were "called." Come wind,
come weather, we had to save the world.

For our seminary's bequest of that sense of high duty one is
forever grateful.

McMuRRY S. RiCHEY, A.B., 1936; B.D., 1939; Ph.D., 1954:

Invitation to remembrance of things past surely allows for a
modicum of nostalgic bias of memory and mention; indeed, if not
admitted, it operates withal, and I can risk seeming sanguine of
judgment when grateful for legacy. Forty years is a long slope to
look back down, to a School of Religion (renamed "The Divinity
School" in 1940) just then a decade old in a Duke University only
two years older (although outgrowth of almost century-old Trinity
College). In such privileged selectivity I must acknowledge grate-
fully an already proficient faculty, growing in power and recog-
nition, and transcending provincialism of denomination, region,
and academy; a demanding course of studies with generally high
expectations; a close fellowship of students, depression-poor but
manifold of talent and promise; an evangelical liberalism steeped
in devotion, rooted in historical study of Scripture, and expressed
in confident dedicated ministry and zealous social concern; a con-
sciousness of things astir, of new emergents in the life of the school,
the place of the churches in the larger Church and Faith, and the
imperative tasks of Church and churches in a darkening, troubled
world.

The strength in Biblical faculty already presaged their indi-
vidual and the institutional excellence of later years. If eminent
New Testament scholar B. Harvie Branscomb, a liberal Southern
Methodist, was hardly available to our class because called on to
aid academic libraries at Duke, across America, and even in South
America, his quality of scholarship and Oxford-influenced aca-
demic expectations were nevertheless pervasively influential. After
our time he would be Dean of The Divinity School, later Chan-
cellor of Vanderbilt University.

In his absences emerged his erudite younger colleague, Kenneth
W. Clark, a Northern Baptist then, later Methodist. Precise, dis-
ciplined, and polished, he was already on the way to knowing every
New Testament manuscript in the world, and eager to take us

150

through Greek, Hellenistic backgrounds, and the life and teachings
of Jesus, in University of Chicago genetic socio-historical approach.
His subsequent preeminence in New Testament textual scholarship
eventuated in distinguished service as Director of the International
Greek New Testament Project.

Naive entering students not yet weaned from Biblical literalism
were afforded a gentler transitional nurture by Dean Elbert Russell,
devout Quaker, Preacher to the University, social prophet, ecu-
menical pioneer, and profoundly engaging, inspiring Old and New
Testament scholar-teacher, if reluctant administrator. He was Dean
for thirteen formative years in the life of the school and the lives
of students. Liberal faith and Biblical scholarship need not be
feared, indeed could be confidently espoused, when productive of
such life and witness.

Promising new reinforcement in Old Testament studies arrived
along with our class in masterful young Hebraist William F. Stine-
spring, of the United Brethren, later Presbyterian, an earnest "red
Bible" (Chicago translation) toting spokesman for Amos and Hosea,
even at mill picket lines. He would become the beloved "Uncle
Dudley," perennial core course professor shepherding generations
of "babes in the woods" through Old Testament introduction, and
Hebrew teacher extraordinary, commentator, translator, musician,
"anchor-man" in daily chapel services. With these to guide us, is
it any wonder we took Scripture seriously, if liberally? The era
of the new Biblical theologies was still just ahead for Duke faculty
and students.

Renewal of historical theology likewise lay in the near future,
and till then both church history and systematic theology were
liberally shy of classical traditions. Two brilliant new teaching
scholars, Petry and Outler, would soon contribute to that needed
recovery. Meantime Paul Neff Garber, enthusiastic convert to
church history (from university teaching) and to Methodism (from
the Church of the Brethren), was our genial and zestful taskmaster
through the whole course of Christian history — at least its person-
ages, events, movements, and institutions. His repeated accolades
to "hard workers" among religious leaders studied evoked our
byword "terrible toilers" for them, for him, and somewhat pre-
sumptuously for ourselves. He would serve later as Dean of The
Divinity School, and subsequently as a Bishop of The Methodist
Church. The promising advent of another from the Brethren,
later Methodist Ray C. Petry, our middle year brought fresh illumi-
nation of early and medieval church history through sophisticated

151

scholarship and charismatic lectures on Christianity and culture,
social teachings, classics of faith, and the mystical tradition. He
became a foremost medieval church historian, author, editor, and
James B. Duke Professor. In our time St. Francis was his special
study and ideal, and became ours.

Systematic theology was not "in" at Duke then, or in liberalism
generally, but Gilbert T. Rowe was. He had been Book Editor
of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, and prime target of
Fundamentalist critics seeking his trial for heresy at the 1924 Gen-
eral Conference. Any who missed study with— and of!— this deep
spirit, free mind, eccentric "character," and veteran of inward
spiritual conflict and outward battles for liberal theology in South-
ern Methodism, can never make it up. In espousing with him
D. C. Macintosh's "theology as an empirical science" we were
likely, however, to miss his own wider and deeper sources of faith
and thought. Too late for most of us, scintillating young Methodist
Albert C. Outler came in our senior year to re-root the faith of our
fathers. With philosophical acumen and theological comprehension
like unto his patron Origen's, and uttering unknown tongues in
class, he brought both classical richness and daring currency to
curriculum and community. He has since become a foremost
Methodist historical theologian, Protestant interpreter of Roman
Catholic developments from Vatican II, and authority on John
Wesley.

It was H. Shelton Smith, however, who was our prime awakener
from undogmatic slumbers. Literally roaming our seminar room,
he caught us up not only in mind but in body in his own dramatic
pilgrimage from near humanism of progressive religious education
into neo-Reformation realism about sin, grace, church, culture,
and ideology. But for him we might not have read Barth,'Brunner'
Bultmann, Tillich, the Niebuhrs, and C. H. Dodd; and we might
have concealed from ourselves the tragic racial acculturation of
Southern faith and church, which he still relentlessly exposes A
Congregational-Christian, now of the United Church of Christ he
was chief founding father of the North Carolina Council' of
Churches, of Duke's graduate study in religion, and of studies in
American Christianity, as well as pivotal theological critic of liberal
religious education. It was in this critical reaction that he led us
into neo-Reformation writings and also back into the history of
American thought and racist churchmanship. He would become
James B. Duke Professor of American Religious Thought and the
acknowledged dean of studies in American Christianity.

152

The School of Religion was not yet to follow neo-orthodoxy
into jettisoning liberal studies about religion, however, and both
our faculty and stellar Duke University scholars introduced us to
the history, philosophy, psychology, and sociology of religion. James
Cannon II, Trinity College veteran already storied for gruff ex-
terior hiding warm caring, and for "old notes" punctually opened
and closed with the bell (remember the collision with a student
trying to beat him to the exit?), took us through the history of
primitive and world religions and into Christian missions, his great
concern. High standards of scholarship were also his concern, and
it was he who best trained us in careful research and meticulous
documentation. Influential in Methodist theological education and
long-time "Mr. Phi Beta Kappa" (Secretary) at Duke, he was later
Acting Dean and then Dean of The Divinity School. Sagacious
Alban G. Widgery brought an English twinkle of spirit and a
resolute Aristotelian and Cambridge realism to the philosophy of
religion. Anglican, and resolutely English through decades at Duke,
he was chairman of the Duke University Department of Philosophy
but also on the School of Religion faculty. His personal friend-
ship, rich history of philosophy and philosophy of history, and
critical and constructive personal realism continue to undergird
this former student in healthy critical resistance to reductionistic
analysis and naturalisms on the one hand and absolute and per-
sonal idealisms on the other. The psychology of religion was
towering pulpit orator Franklin S. Hickman's arena for vindicating
the meaning and possibility of purposive behavior. Christian self-
hood and vocation, and even Christian theism, against the atheistic
implications of behavioristic psychology, biological evolutionism,
and psychoanalytic thought. A Northern Methodist who became
a powerful leader in North Carolina Methodism, he was our other
Preacher to the University and later Dean of the Chapel and
teacher of preaching. Another Quaker, Hornell N. Hart, came to
the Department of Sociology and the School of Religion our senior
year and taught social ethics, sociology of religion, cultural anthro-
pology, and modernized mystical disciplines like unto cunent cults
of meditation. For other studies in sociology and in psychology
we had access to outstanding university professors — Howard E.
Jensen for social pathology and criminology; Charles A. Ellwood
for sociological theory; Edgar T. Thompson for regional demogra-
phy of the South, and race relations; William McDougall as social
psychologist interpreting behavior as dynamic (purposive), and
Helge Lundholm for abnormal psychology.

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Our scant work in practical theology depended on three
Methodist undergraduate religion professors who shared time with
the School of Religion. Benign and tolerant Hiram E. Myers,
experienced minister and professor of English Bible, and later
Chairman of the undergraduate Department of Religion, taught
homiletics with Phillips Brooks' approach to preaching as "truth
through personality," and gave wise and helpful guidance. Hersey
E. Spence taught religious education, lectured alliteratively, wrote
religious dramas and much verse, directed plays and pageants, en-
tertained students hospitably — and vigorously countered our social
gospel and pacifism. Jesse Marvin Ormond was affectionate "Papa
Ormond" instructing us "young gentlemen" in ministry and morals
before sending us out in summer "Duke Foundation" (Endowment)
work in rural Methodist churches. His long service as Director of
the Rural Church Program for the Duke Endowment and our
school is commemorated in the present J. M. Ormond Center for
Research, Planning, and Development. Director of the Chapel
Choir J. Foster Barnes and Director of Religious Activities Merri-
mon Cuninggim, both Methodists, gave a valuable course in church
music and hymnology. But much of what we brought to the work
of ministry as we left the School of Religion came from observation
and the varied experiences on "Foundation." We learned the rest
on the job, with main force and awkwardness.

Who were we who came to study in such a school? We were
smaller in number then, with half our present faculty, and a third
of our present student enrollment. Most were Methodist, most
Southern, yet our 1938-39 total of 117 men and 1 woman repre-
sented 8 denominations, 41 colleges and universities, 17 states (with
no recruiting needed then). Of some 40 entering in 1936, 29 re-
ceived the B.D. in 1939; others dropped out, transferred, or delayed
graduation theses. We were unmarried, mostly; "Foundation"
work and funds were available only to the single, and depression
era economics allowed few to have wives, cars, even luxuries like
radios. A few were student pastors and could marry and drive.
When several of us brought brides to our senior year it seemed as
if Luther were again emptying the monasteries! As for quality of
students then and now, today may see improvement, but our fel-
lows of 1936-39 included a fair share of future bishops and aspi-
rants, district superintendents, prominent pastors, missionaries
abroad, church executives, college and seminary faculty, and many
other good ministers of Jesus Christ in just as important modest
appointments. We surely studied longer and harder, with six days

154

of classes, more courses, a heavy thesis requirement, and much more
stringent grading than in this time of inflated marks. We were too
busy and poor for much distraction. What time and funds could
be saved were needed for visits to nearby women's colleges; those
visits were not distraction but redemption!

After my Alumni Sunday sermon in Duke Chapel recently I was
surprised at the surprise of one of our keen students who heard me
recall the ferment of social concern and activism of my student
generation. There is more to tell. We were consciously partici-
pants in a changing school, church, and world. A newly developing
alumni self-consciousness was expressed in the recently formed
Alumni Association and the new Duke School of Religion Bulletin,
to embody Duke ideas and news. Strong student leadership de-
veloped. Student deputations spread the personal and social gospel.
A new worship committee inaugurated morning services in York
Chapel to supplement the Tuesday and Friday services (of Elbert
Russell and Frank Hickman) in Duke Chapel. A missionary com-
mittee emerged, and a spiritual life committee, stimulated and
deepened under leadership of the Dean. Our first student journal,
Christian Horizons, began with an article asking, "Have We a
Gospel for the Poor?" and the national Christian Student magazine
promptly reprinted it. A new doctoral program in religion awarded
three Ph.D. degrees as we became Bachelors of Divinity in 1939.
The academic impact of this program on faculty and students
through the years is incalculable but manifestly enormous. The
American Association of Theological Schools issued its first accredi-
tations in 1938 and Duke's name was written there. That same year
Duke University also gained coveted membership in the exclusive
Association of American Universities. Reunion of three branches
of Methodism in 1939 gave ecumenically staff^ed Duke new status
and eventually support as one of the official theological schools of
a nation-wide and world-related Methodist Church.

We were kept too conscious of events and ideas in ecumenical
Christianity and of conflicts and injustices and needs in the world
to settle into pietistic, academic, or denominational insularity and
self-satisfaction. Elbert Russell was delegate in 1937 to the Chris-
tian Life and Work "Conference on Church, State and Community"
at Oxford and the Faith and Order Conference at Edinburgh, and
was one of a few American church leaders appointed to the ensuing
provisional committee to meet at Utrecht in 1938 and lay the
foundations for a World Council of Churches. His active involve-
ment, and Shelton Smith's galvanizing attention to the prolific

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theological and ethical literature of Edinburgh and Oxford, kept
us aware of Christendom as well as of impending world conflicts
which cast their shadow upon those conferences. Meanwhile back
on the campus, we were hosts to the 1937 conference of the flourish-
ing Southern Interseminary Movement, and brought about in our
social room what was probably the first interracial dining at Duke —
with the help of a resolute Dean and student committee against
an intransigent university administration. Among the stimulating
speakers was Mordecai Johnson, president of Howard University,
regarded by Elbert Russell as the greatest preacher in America.
One outcome of the conference — since we furnished 53 of the 97
registrants — was the election of a Duke student as president for
the 1938 conference in Louisville.

A procession of visiting professors (including theologian John
K. Benton of Drew University, later Dean of Vanderbilt School of
Theology, and Homer H. Dubs, philosopher and Chinese classicist,
later of Columbia, Hartford, and Oxford), eminent lecturers, and
leading preachers — more then than now, it seems — had invigorating
impact on student and faculty thinking about faith, church, minis-
try, and world. "Foundation" students (most of us) were required
to participate in the two-week Methodist Pastors' School held on
campus after June graduation each year, and heard also lecturers
in the concurrent Institute of International Relations and Rural
Church Institute; for example, Edwin Lewis, James Moffatt, Fred-
erick Norwood, E. McNeill Poteat, Roswell P. Barnes, Y. T. Wu,
and Arthur Hewitt. The annual summer Junaluska School of
Religion extended the service of our faculty and brought some
faculty members from other institutions. The Centennial of Duke
University (from beginnings in Randolph County in 1838) was
celebrated in 1938 with a bevy of notable lecturers, and was fol-
lowed early in 1939 by our School of Religion Symposium on Mod-
ern Religious Problems with another cast of stellar speakers, in-
cluding Pitirim Sorokin, William P. Montague, Henry Sloan Coffin,
George A. Buttrick, Charles Clayton Morrison, Allan Knight
Chalmers, Charles E. Raven, Robert L. Calhoun, Harlan Paul
Douglass, Ivan Lee Holt, and Emil Brunner. There were other
occasional lecturers, and outstanding visiting preachers in Duke
University Chapel. Preachers for 1936-37 alone included Luther A.
Weigle, Theodore Cuyler Speers, Albert W. Beaven, Lynn Harold
Hough, Rufus M. Jones, Ivan Lee Holt, John A. Mackay, Frederick
B. Fisher, Edwin A. Penick, Paul B. Kern, and others. Probably
most influential of all was perennial Religious Emphasis Week

156

preacher Henry Hitt Crane, whose dramatic preaching filled Page
Auditorium with students at mid-day, and the Chapel at night,
and who powerfully called us out of self-preoccupation into service,
out of provincialism into world responsibility, out of cultural con-
formity into radical social reform for economic justice, racial
brotherhood, and world peace — all in the spirit of Jesus Christ.

This was the school, and these were the people, who helped to
make up our minds and ministry, from 1936 to 1939. A few months
after graduation we were in churches in a nation in a world at war.

Charlotte Churchill Brown, M.R.E., 1949:

My vantage point is an unusual one in three ways: I was one
of the female minority in the Duke Divinity School class of 1949;
I also became the wife of a B.D. candidate; and I am the mother
of a 1976 M.Div. graduate. Thus, experiences at Duke have en-
riched our family in many ways.

Memories

From February, 1948, until June, 1949, and graduation with
my coveted M.R.E. degree, I have many cherished memories. Nelle
Bellamy (M.A., 1950) took me in on the snowy night of my arrival
from High Point, where I had just graduated in late January.
James Brown and Earl Richardson were to arrive by Jeep a few
days later — all of us to begin mid-year in Dr. W. F. Stinespring's
Old Testament course and Dr. Frank Young's New Testament. Oh!
The class is in the middle of the book. Who are J, E, H, D, P?
We will not forget Abishag, King David's "bedwarmer," and "Uncle
Dudley's" sparkling dark eyes and broad smile, nor his "estimable
brother-in-law W. F. Albright." . . . More problems. How do we
outline the entire New Testament in one semester? Take comfort!
Our task could never be as difficult as that of our Chinese fellow-
student, learning Greek from an English-speaking teacher.

For variety, I also joined Harold ("Educated-at-the-wrong-end")
Hipps' square dance group, Hipps' Hoppers, mostly divinity stu-
dents and friends. (That autographed rolling-pin wedding gift is
still in use.) The campus was beautiful in the spring, and I was
in love and became engaged in May. Dr. John Rudin's speech
class banquet included an assignment for James on how he made

157

a successful marriage proposal. The title was "The Magic Formula
Works!"

First semester, fall of 1948, was to end in late January, 1949, so
wedding plans for Christmas interrupted several things. Dr. Waldo
Beach kindly gave me an extension of time on my Christian ethics
term paper. I found out that James and Earl, like hosts of other
students, did have to study all night for Dr. Ray Petry's church
history exam. Ruby Bailey spent the night with me and sympa-
thized with my "deserted bride's" tears. Alas, exams had top pri-
ority for us all. Jerry and Mary Murray and Harry and Fran
Jordan were married at the same time we were. I am sure wedding
bells still ring often, but it is easier now with the semester ending
before Christmas, a welcome change.

There was time for fun, singing a duet with Calvin Knight,
tenor, accompanied by Dr. Beach, at one of the banquets. Divinity
Dames afforded good fellowship with the wives of students and
faculty. The favorite game in the Social Room was Carroms,
thumped with the finger. The stove in the adjoining kitchen
warmed many a can of soup for a quiet, budget-conscious lunch.
In the dining hall, one student got the attention of his friends by
hitting them on the back of the head with an empty, single-serving
cereal box. Yes, it was Purnell ("Cereal Box") Bailey.

Dr. Hersey Spence urged me on to finish my thesis by May 1,
and I sandwiched that in, well filled with my experience as Director
of Christian Education at Asbury Methodist Church. I also learned
to cook, keep house, and be a good wife. It was a great year and
a half. Then I continued to work on a P.H.T. (Put Husband
Through) while James finished Divinity School. How many were
doing this joyfully then and are now!

Changes

Having close contact with the present Divinity School through
my son Wesley, I have observed several changes. The school has
grown in size of student body and faculty and in its beautiful
physical plant, of which Dr. Robert Cushman must feel justifiably
proud. By means of the Pastors' School, Convocation, and the
library, the school continues to be a source of learning and inspira-
tion for its graduates and others.

It has been wonderful to see my son's excitement with his learn-
ing and his respect and admiration for those who teach him. Our
feelings were the same. We knew our teachers as scholars dedicated
to filling us with as much knowledge as we could hold. They were

158

generous in sharing themselves as persons and seemed to scorn
material ostentation. Do they still ride bicycles and drive old cars?

When I was one of about eight women in Divinity School, we
were probably a little "special" in the eyes of the faculty. Now,
with about eighty women, I wonder whether this feeling has
diminished. My own motive for being there was two-fold: to
become a Director of Christian Education and to be near the young
man I loved and become a minister's wife. My career in Christian
Education changed from paid to volunteer when my husband re-
ceived his first appointment, and I have never used my training for
financial gain since. (Those in school now, please take note.) In
retrospect, had I taken an M.A. in English instead, I would have
saved myself the two years in 1968-70 getting this degree, needed
to continue a second career, which began at Wilmington College
in 1963. Ministers' wives have to be adaptable, and the education
of four children is expensive. Motherhood and teaching have be-
come my ministry. On the other hand, my time at the Divinity
School has given me tools for further study and for evaluation of
what I read and hear, as well as a deeper appreciation of James's
work. It was one of the happiest periods in my life. How can that
be measured?

A most significant change has taken place since Dr. Harold
Bosley was dean in 1949. At the dean's invitation, the scholarly,
dark-skinned Dr. Eddy Asirvatham of India came to lecture. He
purposefully wore his white tunic and turban in the Duke cafeteria,
for if he had been mistaken for a Negro, he would not have been
served. Dr. Bosley and the students were ashamed. There were
no black students in our school. This year Professor Herbert O.
Edwards, a Negro, former coal miner, now minister and teacher,
spoke eloquently during the baccalaureate communion in Duke
Chapel on the miracle that he should be there. Our collective
social consciousness is bringing, at last, equal rights and responsi-
bility for blacks and women.

Outlook

Miracles are happening every day. God's plan is working. It
was working in the minds and hearts of Benjamin Duke and his
advisors who set up the Duke Foundation, benefiting all of us and
thousands of others. (In contrast, the problem of a will not guided
by God has recently been seen at the death of billionaire Howard
Hughes, whose pathetic life also apparently lacked any receptivity
to God's will.) God's plan is working in our shared experience in

159

God's kingdom. Thank you, Duke family, fellow students, teachers,
for being a part of my life, my family's life, my church's life. Thank
you for helping us think and grow. May your future and ours be
bright and long — even, by God's mercy and grace — eternal!

Denver Stone, B.D., 1959; Th.M., 1971:

In 1954 my wife and I had an interview with the Personnel
Secretary of the Board of Missions of the Methodist Church regard-
ing missionary service in Asia. Both of us were trained teachers,
but I was also a supply pastor. The secretary advised us that
seminary training was required if I wanted to be both teacher and
pastor. Two years later I entered Duke Divinity School with a full
commitment to missionary service. I knew what I wanted to do
and where I was going. From the very beginning my aim was to
complete the course so that we could become "real live" mission-
aries.

I was a commuter student or a student pastor. This included
a daily drive of about seventy miles, but it also meant that I was
not a part of the student life at Duke. But I didn't object too
much because I enjoyed the parish work and I also wasn't really
interested in what took place outside the classroom. My goal was
to pass the courses, get the degree, and become a missionary.

Since I was a day student only, my memories of my Duke days
are basically centered on what happened in the classroom and also
the annual missions week activities. One event in speech class still
lingers with me. I gave a short speecli as assigned. After the class
ended, comment sheets were given to those of us who had made
speeches that day. The main comment on my sheet was, "Your
trousers are too short!" I never could figure out what the relation-
ship was between the speech and the length of the trousers. Espe-
cially since it was a classroom assignment. And as I remember
that particular time I just didn't have too many trousers in the
first place.

Missions Week was the highlight of the year for me. The
annual event was usually held at the beginning of the second
semester, and our visitors or speakers were from the Board of
Missions of The Methodist Church. This week stood out for me
because it was my main interest, and it also provided me an oppor-
tunity to talk with the visitors about my future work. This was

160

the only week of the year that I attended chapel regularly as well
as any lectures that were given outside of my own classes. Missions
Week solidified for me my own commitment to missions and also
strengthened the encouragement that was provided by the Missions
Professor at Duke.

As I look back, I am aware that I wasn't as open-minded as I
should have been when the various speakers spoke about missions
in various parts of the world. I was living with an idealistic phi-
losophy of missions, such as "people waiting to hear the gospel,"
and "harmonious relationships among missionaries and national
workers." The visiting speakers often times spoke of the "real"
situation and the problems involved. This kind of mission talk
didn't impress me too deeply, and I really didn't believe it until
I arrived in Southeast Asia and became a part of the work there.
Missions Week challenges and opportunities were perhaps the very
best preparation that I received for the work that I was com-
mitted to.

In my rush to complete the course I did attend one summer
session. That was perhaps the hardest term of the three years.
Daily classes, long distance driving, and parish and family respon-
sibilities really took the sap out of me. Many times I wondered
if I would get the work — papers, books read, exams, etc — com-
pleted on time. And there were times when I seriously thought
about giving it up because the future just wasn't worth what the
present was demanding. But the desire to be a missionary kept
me going to the end.

In June, 1959, I received my Bachelor of Divinity degree in
absentia since I was already signed up with the Missions Board.
I was ordained in my home conference the day of Duke graduation
and was also making my way to my first missionary conference and
the beginning of orientation.

I really missed a great deal at Duke because I didn't apply
myself fully or didn't take advantage of all that was offered to me.
My goal was to complete the course and passing grades only were
sufficient for that. But I did return eleven years later for the
Master of Theology degree. The concern of the professors and the
warmth of their friendship, the openness of the students and their
involvement in life, and my own desire to learn and to absorb all
that I could take in made that one year a rich and meaningful one
for me.

The days at Duke are just memories now, and I would not

161

want to relive them in any way whatsoever. The memories of
academic study, realistic thinking, chapel inspiration, and practical
living and service make the present-day activities worthwhile and
rewarding. The same God who was in control twenty years ago
still reigns today. Life in and with Jesus Christ and the commit-
ment to His cause is more challenging and rewarding than it has
ever been before.

C. Randal James, M.Div., 1968; Th.M., 1969:

One sunny day, in the spring of 1968, the following poem,
entitled "Impressions of the Day," mysteriously and anonymously
appeared on the bulletin board opposite the divinity students'
mailboxes:

I listenedl

I heard sounds, but no sense was heard.
I saw the empty minds on empty faces.
I looked with pity on the human race.

I listenedl

I heard ignorance pretend to know!
I saw wisdom being trod into clayl
I looked for help to lead the wayl

I listenedl

I heard no sound that wished to helpl
I saw no hand extended to the weak!
I looked for the leaders of the meek!

I listenedl

I heard no sound that called or inspired!

I saw no well worn path where saints had trod!

I looked, but nowhere did I find the hand of God!

At the bottom of the page there was a notation that this poem was
written especially for and dedicated to the personnel at the Duke
Divinity School.

The first impulse upon reading this poetic endeavor is to
attribute it to ignorance, to a lack of understanding about what
actually was the case at the Divinity School. On the other hand,
someone had penned beside this literary dart thrown at us, "Wel-
come to the real world, kid!"

I suppose that most of us who were in seminary in the decade
of the sixties have been out in the "real" world for a number of
years now, though I doubt that the Divinity School exists, or then

162

existed, in some "unreal" world. Nonetheless, could the above
poetic barb be hurled at us again in this present day?

In his Convocation Address on September 18, 1965, Dean Robert
E. Cushman said the following to the students and faculty of the
Divinity School:

Specifically, I am going to say that the aim of theological education is
nothing else than to discover, each for himself, the ministry of Jesus Christ
in that full range of its meaning and significance that is possible to us in
our time and for our historical situation. ... I am also stressing . . . that
the aim of theological education is that each of you should, indeed must,
unpack it for himself. I am suggesting the general area of buried treasure,
but each of you must take to pick and shovel. There is simply no substi-
tute for each of you joining the hunt.

The Dean captured in those words what I take to be not only the
essence of formal theological education, but also our continuing
theological education as well. The hunt never ends. Unfortunately,
many never joined the hunt, accepting only the bounty for which
others had diligently searched. Many joined the hunt, only to drop
out when the treasure found was not that which was expected, or
when the treasure found became a substitute for that which was
originally sought. And then there are the faithful who have con-
tinued the hunt through the years, finding new treasures as they
creatively and sensitively carry on their ministry, as they hear God's
word in ever changing situations.

The class of 1968 heard the voice of the Dean with both antici-
pation and apprehension. On that day in September those prospec-
tive ministers of the Church were finally to begin theii three or
four years of formal theological education. What an exciting and
confusing experience it was to be! It was the best of times and the
worst of times. For we were destined to be challenged not only
intellectually in the classroom, but challenged also in the internal
affairs of the Divinity School, especially as those affairs related to
community life and the curriculum, and challenged by the external
affairs of Durham and the larger world.

We struggled along with such courses as "Baby" Bible ("You
mean we have to outline the whole thing!"). Church Histoi-y ("I
can't get this topic more narrow!"). Systematic Theology ("Theol-
ogy presupposes religion going on."), Greek ("Let's talk about the
basketball game."), American Christianity ("Does he really memo-
rize these lectures?"), Christian Ethics ("I need a caddy for this
afternoon."). Old Testament ("Heilsga what?"). Philosophical
Theology ("You get his even sentences and I'll get his odd ones."),

163

Pastoral Care ("I hear you saying . . ."), and Preaching ("How does
one develop a Scottish accent?"). As we tried to synthesize these
into something resembling a coherent whole, we also struggled
with and sought to be sensitive to the human needs manifested
after the tragic death of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the escalation
of the war in Vietnam, the assassination of Bobby Kennedy, the
plight of the Duke non-academic workers, and the "death" of God.
These were turbulent and searching years.

Yet somehow through it all, by the grace of God, the Divinity
School community carried on its work and mission. It prepared
its students to take on the challenge of being theologians in the
"real" world, a direct consequence of a dedicated and scholarly
faculty. Whether we like it or not, or fully understand it or not,
that identity of "theologian" is what we are really about. Whether
we identified ourselves as being in a program preparing for parish
ministry, for teaching, for campus ministry, for chaplaincy, for
pastoral care, or for Christian education, the term encompassing
all of us is "theologian." In an earlier article in the Duke Divinity
School Review (Winter, 1968) I suggested this same point. After
being out of school some seven years now, I still think that develop-
ing theologians is, or ought to be, the primary concern of a semin-
ary. No matter in what specific form of ministry we find ourselves,
we as theologians are always about the task of interpreting God's
action in the world and the fitting, appropriate responses of His
people to Him and to one another.

But such a notion presupposes that our theological education
is dynamic and not static. Our theological education did not cease
when we received our degrees. Rather, our theological education
must be a continual process, a process marked by increasing sensi-
tivity to how God acts to meet the needs of persons, and a process
marked by continual scholarly study. The ultimate compliment
to be paid to the Divinity School is that it equipped us with the
tools to do precisely that kind of on-going theological education.

If we are to stand in the heritage of the aims and purposes of
the Divinity School, we dare not drop out of the hunt. Lest our
anonymous poet above be proven correct, we must constantly hold
before us the words of St. Paul:

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect; but I press
on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus had made me His own.
Brethren, I do not consider that I have made it my own, but one thing I
do, forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead.

164

I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in
Christ Jesus.

• • •

Leonard V. Lassiter, Jr., Class of 1978:

At the time of this writing, I have completed only one semester
at the Divinity School of Duke University. I found this brief
article more difficult to write than I first anticipated. A little state-
ment of background may perhaps demonstrate why I found diffi-
culty.

I was born and raised in Greensboro, North Carolina. I received
my primary education in the still somewhat segregated public
schools of Greensboro. I never considered this to be a drawback,
however, because most of my teachers were of a quality exceeded
by none, period! I graduated from Dudley Senior High School in
the stormy year, 1969. It was during this time that many pre-
dominantly white colleges and universities, particularly those in
the South, began heavily recruiting Black students. It was also
during this time that I passed up my first opportunity to attend
Duke.

I ultimately settled into North Carolina A&T State University,
majoring in history. As a person who can and will be highly
critical when occasion calls for it, I can say with complete candor
and total honesty that I feel that I acquired the finest undergradu-
ate education possible in this part of the country.

Few professors, particularly those in my field, history, would
allow a student to become complacent with his or her work. Black
studies, a big issue on many predominantly white campuses, was
smoothly worked into the total curriculum, not just history or
literature, but in all aspects of academic life. Being Black was
considered a normal element in the makeup of society, and was
treated as such. However, we were constantly made aware of the
challenges that face us and that only getting by would no longer
suffice in functioning in our ever changing society. We were being
prepared to meet those challenges. We were being prej^ared to
compete for and function in jobs. We were being prepared for
graduate school, and being provided with a background so that
we could do well.

I can imagine that, by now, you are wondering what all this
has to do with my relationship with Duke. I hope now to provide
some insight into that question. When I graduated from A&T, a

165

friend of mine, a close friend of mine, said something to me that
hurt me deeply. I did fairly well at A&T and he did equally well
here at Duke. He stated that, in his opinion, not only could "any-
one" attend A&T, "anyone" could attend and do well. It was at
that moment that I think I first began to appreciate my choice of
schools. I had gotten a top quality education, but I had not for-
gotten who I was, where I came from, and at the same time had
kept my sights on what was important for improving myself toward
my goals and aspirations. Only I, and of course the others who
had done well at A&T, knew what we had done to earn our honors.
However, we knew, probably better than anyone else, that we
could not just rest on those honors. We knew that in a world of
distorted prejudices a "summa cum laude" from A&T, or any other
predominantly Black institution, would mean little in relation to
a "summa cum laude" from schools such as Duke. This gave me a
little added drive, so that I could in effect tell the world that I had
beaten the system. If I ever make anything of myself, I can say to
our American society: look, I attended your segregated schools, I
was educated at an inferior Black state-supported college, my family
and friends have accepted inferior jobs and subhuman wages for
a second place in our equal American society, but I am still able
to look you straight in the eye and tell you that I can do anything
you can do, and do it sometimes better. And I will not be satisfied
until total eye contact has been made. The days of the browbeaten
are numbered.

Just as no longer shall I accept number two and be satisfied,
no longer will we accept number two and be satisfied. I will be
doing no one any favor if I claw my way to the top and leave my
family at a sub-level. It is my opinion that over the past century
Blacks in this country have been building a ladder. It started from
the bottom, and it is my responsibility, with spirit willing, to serve
as another step toward the top. It is just a pity that it was ever
necessary for a ladder to be built, and even more pitiful that that
ladder has not been completed.

So, if these are my sentiments, why did I ever come to the
Divinity School of Duke University? First of all, I do not operate
on the premise that all white people are evil. That bit of open-
mindedness at least opened the door. Second, after careful exami-
nation and comparison of seminary curricula and programs, I was
thoroughly convinced that Duke offered the best program. I had
made a serious error in judgment before, and I wanted to be

166

absolutely certain that I did not make that error again. Third,
while deficiencies in resources can be overcome, as demonstrated in
Blacks becoming successful in spite of segregated schools, facilities,
etc., Duke offered such vast resources and excellence in staffing
that denying myself these resources would be tantamount to inten-
tionally breaking a leg before a race. And fourth, there is an atti-
tude and presence of mind. As indicated previously, it is important
to me to remember just who I am and where I come from. I know
there have been many people who have made many sacrifices so
that I might have the opportunity to attend a school such as Duke.
With these roots in mind, I find little difficulty and few conflicts
in pursuing my education here. It's important to me to be not
just a good preacher, but a good minister as well.

In my first semester, I have found the courses to be challenging,
the instructors to be fair, and the administration to be concerned.
But what has impressed me the greatest are the people here. People
as persons, not as students, not as instructors, but as persons. There
seems to be a bridge linking us all together. Black and White,
male and female, student and instructor. From that bridge, it is
my hope to add another step to the ladder toward an equal and
coherent society.

Ecumenism and Some Currents
of Theology Today

by Robert E. Cushman
Research Professor of Systematic Theology

It will be recalled thai the late Archbishop of Canterbury,
William Temple, before his death in 1945, expressed the judgment
that the advancing ecumenical movement seemed to him "the great
new fact of our time." He meant, of course, "the great new fact"
for Christendom. To this movement William Temple had, for a
generation, devoted his great talents as theologian and churchman.

I raise the question whether developments of the past thirty
years sustain the measure of promise which Temple entertained
regarding both the advance and the achievement of ecumenism.
Admittedly the question is many-sided in import and involves a
wide range of factors that cannot be explored in one sitting. So
let it be understood that our assessment of the evidence must be
incomplete, and far more in the nature of an inquiry than of a
conclusion — yet I think an inquiry worth making.

It is worth making because, while it is notoriously difficult to
assess one's own time — since it is in flux and never quite in focus —
it is, nevertheless, necessary to take our bearings for charting our
course in a sea of change, especially if we are to try to be respon-
sible churchmen and churchwomen in our generation. Today in
theology, furthermore, the question is pressing: responsible to
whom — God or man?

First, then, I would like to register some impressions respecting
the state of recent and present-day ecumenism, and, secondly, con-
sider some explanations for the impressions I have concerning the
state of health of the ecumenical movement today. These explana-
tions will involve reference to the theological climate, especially
as this climate aff^ects and finds expression in the "life and work"
of the churches. I do not pretend that there are not other factors
of influence in addition to theological trends, e.g., sociological,
economic, and political, that also affect the health of the ecu-

168

menical movement. I judge the ecumenical movement to be, at
center, a thrust toward the reunion of Christendom.

As to my impressions, I register the judgment that the thrust
of the ecumenical movement in the twenty years between 1945 and
1965 was steadily forward, from the establishment of the World
Council of Churches in 1948 and the Lund Conference of 1952
onward to the Montreal Conference of 1963, and that it climaxed
in the Second Vatican Council. I judge Vatican II to be an
essential outworking of the ecumenical movement and, in fact,
a climatic part of it. I also have the impression that since Vatican
II the movement, having reached a high plateau, has subsequently
suffered a decline of both interest and power. This I judge from
many indices such as the failure of the Anglican-Methodist Con-
versations in England (1973) and the bogged-down, if still hopeful,
deliberations that doggedly persist in the circles of our Consulta-
tion on Church Union in this country. For this latter project, in
the direction of organic union among Protestant churches, I per-
ceive no alleviation of the apathy of the "grass-roots" since 1971
and, partly, because the rationale of such union is both unperceived
and unconvincing to the generality of church people. Behind this,
perhaps, stands the long unfinished business of the Oberlin Con-
ference (1957) that raised but never supplied a clear or cogent
answer to the question about "the nature of the unity we seek."

Strategically and tactically considered, it is my impression —
however unpopular with a now established ecumenical bureau-
cracy— that moves toward large scale organic union "jump the gun"
on the still unsettled issue of the nature of the unity for which
historically separated churches can at this juncture be ready — how-
ever needful, even urgent, may be recovery of a more united
Christendom. I put the matter this way because I agree heartily
with William Temple on the long-range significance of the ecu-
menical movement. Its emergence in the early 20th century may,
in the wisdom of God, yet prove to be the great new promise of
World Christianity in its mission of Christ to the world. Mean-
while, today, the ecumenical movement has lost vitality and, for
some, is passing, so to speak, under a cloud or has stalled in a
climate of some little distraction and confusion, as both among
and within the churches.

The remainder of this discussion will seek to comment upon
one large factor in this confusion, namely, some theological trends
and ideological distractions of the day, which, in my view, have
had a diversionary influence upon ecumenical thought and enter-

169

prise and are international in scope. They bear directly upon both
the nature of the church and the conception of both the nature
and the way of salvation. In fact, they challenge and notably
reject older ways of viewing salvation itself. And these trends are
represented both within Protestant and Roman Catholic circles at
home and abroad.

It is my premise, in the following account of some aspects of
current theology, that the ecumenical movement from around 1920
to 1960 was favored by a rising curve of theological or doctrinal
consensus, interdenominational and international in scope. It was
undergirded by a renaissance in Biblical studies — first Protestant
and then Catholic — that provided a powerful and constructive
background for collaboration at the level of practical churchman-
ship. If we must, we can "tag" it, but at the risk of oversimplifi-
cation, as a revival of classical Christian theology which some called
"neo-orthodoxy." And we can identify the period, roughly, as the
forty years between 1920 and 1960.

My second premise would be that since 1960 the noted under-
girding emergent doctrinal consensus has dwindled and that its
place has been taken by a variety of militant theological platforms
both to the "right" and to the "left." To a great extent both are
non-ecclesiological in temper — the "left" of high visibility, vehe-
ment sociological awareness, and socio-therapeutic concern.

As a species, the movements of the "left" may possibly be
grouped together under the general title "renewal theology," whose
criterion of truth is "relevance"; or perhaps, better, they may be
described methodologically as falling under the caption "contextual
theology." By the latter is meant that what is taken to have sur-
vival value in Christian faith is what is required of it, or relevant
in it, to meet the real or avowed needs of mankind in its life in
this world, and now.

Let me attempt a sketch of this species of current religious
thought by examining a principal source and some "spinoffs." Of
its current general aspect let this characterization of Melvin
Maddocks from the editorial page of the Daily American, published
in Rome for September 20, 1975, be introductory:

The very word theology seems to be an embarrassment these days . . .
In short, theology appears to be of value only as it becomes a partner—
and a junior partner at that — to an ideology of the moment. With an
eagerness that can sometimes be courageous, sometimes plain embarrassing,
theology has hitchhiked on board all the "revolutions" from civil rights

170

to sexual. Almost apologetically the men and women of God have begged
leave from the arbiters of the time — the psychologists, the sociologists — to
contribute a 'religious dimension' to whatever the problem in hand.

Having described the apparent syndrome, Maddocks asks: "Do
the men and women of God have no options except either to fade
into obsolescence. . . . Or else to become a pathetic me-too tag-
along of all the new paganisms?"

That I take to be a fair question. Let us review in part the
emergence and the development of this "theological" standpoint,
that seems to thrive by riding the waves of popular dissent per-
taining to some bona fide unresolved ills of our time. Let us re-
member, too, that the viewpoint of these theologies is primarily
contextual. The contextual standpoint is a way of thinking. One
way to put it is: the world of human affairs is chaotic and needs
management; has Christianity anything relevant to offer? Can we
use it effectually to meet and resolve the problems of human life
today? What this turns out to be is veridical Christian doctrine.

Ill

Casting one's eye over the spectrum of recent Christian thought,
I judge it was Dietrich Bonhoeffer, as rediscovered and interpreted
in the mid-fifties, whose Letters and Papers from Prison brought
the principle of "contextuality" into startling currency as a theo-
logical principle. What was done ivith Bonhoeffer is not necessarily
to be identified fully with his own intentions. That will forever
be debatable. His final words to his contemporaries were neces-
sarily cryptic, and he was afforded no opportunity for subsequent
explication.

It is fairly clear that Bonhoeffer was committed to the view
that man finds God and is found of him in the inescapable moral
decisions of historical human existence. (His followers have said:
only in these.) Accordingly, it is clear also that he was impatient
with all interpretations of Christian faith that tolerated indiffer-
ence to the human state of affairs wherein God acts. The theology
of the day, in either the Barthian or Bultmannian form, })ropa-
gated, it seemed to Bonhoeffer, an irresponsible other-worldly
eschatology that was really unbiblical.

In the early forties he faced and made a decision for tyrannicide,
and this too was in starkest contrast with historic Lutheran Church
policy and practice of non-adjudication and/or interference with
the affairs of State. But these affairs were in 1940 in the hands of
monsters and had reached a level of demonic depravity that, for

171

Bonhoeffer, could no longer go unopposed. He evidently became
a co-conspirator for assassination of Hitler.

Bonhoeffer's Letters covertly explicate and, perhaps, even under-
standably rationalize his momentous, utterly dedicated, but, to
him, morally terrifying decision for this paradoxical Christian
vocation. It was the context that commanded what was required
of Christian discipleship, and it was costly.

Dying a hero in the cause of apparent righteousness, he became,
perhaps, by accident of history rather than by intention, the
martyred progenitor in modern times of something like Christian
revolutionary action and, at least, an implicit ethic of Christian
revolution. In addition, as a critic of all self-maintaining and
vocationally moribund ecclesiasticism, he seemed to many — stirred
by his total dedication — to foster what became the new, and still
widely prevailing, dogma of "religionless Christianity." While
much was doubtless packed into this phrase by Bonhoeffer, what
was unpacked was mainly threefold: 1) a presumed contempt for
cloistered worship of the altar; 2) a presumed irrelevancy of justi-
fication by faith as the way of salvation; and 3) a conception of
Christian mission wholly dedicated to societal renovation as the
purpose of God for history and the real meaning of Christian
eschatology.

Attending these propositions were corollaries that seemed to
commend themselves for serious and questing Christians who came
under Bonhoeffer's influence and mystique. One of them of wide
acceptance was a budding conception of the Church that flourished
first among Dutch theologians. Rightly understood, the Church is
wholly and essentially mission and not soul-saving in the traditional
senses. The emphasis here was captioned later in the title of J. C.
Hoekendijk's book. The Church Inside Out (1964) and echoed by
Colin Williams' Where in the World?, that is, where in the world
is the Church? (1963). The latter study, while not an official publi-
cation of the National Council of Churches, was an outgrowth of
New Delhi's (1961) call for a long range study of "evangelism and
mission" on the premise that "the present form of church life is a
major hindrance to . . . evangelism" — a word notoriously unde-
fined! Both these volumes supported the view that the vocation of
the Church and of the Christian individual is to be in the world —
where the action is. To de-ghettoize the Church came to be viewed
as the pre-eminent task of the day and the justifying rationale for
being truly Christian.

A second corollary accompanied these findings with the positive

172

program that the mission of the Church is to "let the world pro-
vide the agenda." F. D. Davies, writing in his Dialogue With the
World (London, 1967), understands mission "as the term which
describes the activity of God in the world" (p. 10). Mission is the
work of reconciliation, he thinks, and is concerned with "over-
coming industrial disputes, surmounting class divisions, with the
eradication of racial discrimination" (p. 14). Evangelism that is
concerned with conversion and "individual salvation" not only
creates a "religious enclave" but perpetuates a non-Christian dual-
ism between the sacred and profane — a view which became dogma
for many and still is.

A third corollary may be summarily stated. It has to do with
the how of mission in the megalopolitan society. High in the list
of ways and means, according to Harvey Cox, is "the stewardship
of power." To this exercise the Church is invited, whether it take
the form of Black Power or, possibly. Gay power, or Women's Lib
power. Or, with greater plausibility among some present-day Latin
American expositors, it may implement violent revolutionary
political power in the cause of justice to the oppressed masses
stubbornly deferred. Having attained to this stage, of course, theol-
ogy may with candor be called, as it now is by some protagonists,
"political theology," or more euphemistically, "liberation theology."
Allied with these are "third," and lately, "fourth world theology."
We now seem to arrive at the point in theology of which Melvin
Maddocks, as we noted, both chided and complained, viz., "theol-
ogy has hitchhiked on board all the 'revolutions' from civil rights
to sexual." Nor, perhaps, is it strange, therefore, that the "quota
system," applied to theology, has pluralized the subject very nearly
beyond recognition. Indeed, it becomes increasingly doubtful that
its full-time practitioners can agree on what it is about.

Such in briefest sketch is the course and shape of the so-called
"renewal theology," which has wide journalistic billing among us,
and which may be said, I believe, to find its inspiration, in part,
from Bonhoeffer's somewhat ambiguous apologetic for "religionless
Christianity." In his personal and profoundly moral agony, Bon-
hoeffer, I believe, was obliged to understand organized Christianity
not as any end in itself nor, as so often in German Lutheran ortho-
doxy and other, as largely the means of Grace for strictly personal
salvation; rather, he was obliged to understand its social vocation
in action. Granted his irrevocable commitment and his open-eyed
expectancy of the maximvmi and immanent "cost of discipleship"
for himself, he could scarcely fail to accent his well-established con-

173

vicdon that the business of the Church and the Christian vocation,
in such a world as this, is a call to alliance with God in the spirit
of the Hebrew prophets, in the renovation of human history. It
was for this that he had left England, returned to his homeland
in 1941, and made his ultimate and morally terrifying decision to
which the late Bishop Bell of Chichester was privy. He had found
Old Testament prophecy replete with the vision of moral vocation
under God. Every passage of Old Testament prophecy taught that
fidelity to God's will was always contextual, had the world of
human affairs for its context, and that its demands were both
categorical and costly.

So Peter Berger got the message and in the late fifties, in The
Noise of Solemn Assemblies, could easily fasten, as had the Social
Gospel before him, upon Isaiah l:13f: "Bring no more vain obla-
tions ... I cannot away with iniquity and the solemn meeting . . .
Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of our doings . . .
cease to do evil, learn to do well . . ." Accordingly, Berger exposed
the moral irrelevancy of the churches and justifiably, if with com-
mendable discrimination, urged a de-ghettoizing of the life and
work of the Church. Shortly, Gibson Winter made a by-word of
"the suburban captivity of the churches," deplored the case, and
asked for speedy remedy. A flood of literature followed suppor-
tively — pamphleteering on the same themes. These were to become
obsessive and, for many, continue to be so and with a ramifying
program, anti-intellectual in temper, and usually indifferent to or
disdainful of the uses of worship and the intramural life of the
Christian community. In the sixties the "parish" was out of bounds
for serious ministry.

It is not, perhaps, a needful part of my business in this brief
paper to assess critically the substance of "contextual" or "renewal
theology" as a theological movement. Our interest is directed
rather to the impact of contemporary theological trends upon the
now quiescent ecumenical movement. Yet the impact can be better
understood if we attempt to summarize the import of this theology
and so be better positioned to calculate its implications for that
movement.

One thing is quite fundamental, although it is often tacitly
presupposed and expounded openly mainly by the European ex-
positors of this viewpoint, among them Metz and Moltmann. What
is involved here is an "anti-metaphysical" philosophy or theology
of history. Bonhoeffer was evidently already moving in this direc-
tion. We might say that, with some, history is reality and the

174

primary, perhaps solitary, province of the divine-human encounter.
Bluntly stated, history is the scene where man meets God as ulti-
mate vocation apart from all questions of a hereafter. From this
comes the disposition to retire a difference between the sacred and
profane, the worldly and the Transcendent. Renewal theology,
therefore, participates deeply in the mood of "Christian secularity"
and had as logical outcome the "death of God" theology. The point
for us may be that renewal theology tends to repudiate the Augus-
tinian conception of "the city of God" as opposed to "the earthly
city," together with any remnants of the view that the Christian
Church represents on earth its heavenly proto-type or is, in an
eschatological sense, the pilgrim people of God for whom heaven
is their home, as Cyprian first emphasized.

A second thing to observe is that, in sundry measure and degree,
each of the varieties of renewal or contextual theology has a dis-
position to reduce theology to ethics, and, indeed, pretty largely to
social ethics. In doctrine of the Church, this has the effect of
ignoring 'faith and order' and reducing ecclesiology to 'life and
work' or to the world's challenge to responsible Christian vocation.
Ecclesiologically, as Hoekendijk saw, this exhausts the being of the
Church in mission, as it also pinpoints its real identity and raison
d'etre.

Thus, for example, in his book Dialogue With the World,
previously mentioned, F. D. Davies holds that the mission of the
Church is to establish "shalom" in the world. He does not say so,
but, in the Old Testament, shalom means both peace and well-
being, or the tranquility of well-being. But, now — watch the lan-
guage— this shalom Davies declares to be a "social happening."
Presumably he means a desired state of human affairs. It follows
that the mission of the Church is a vocation with ethical incentive
and, basically, a sociological outcome, named shalom — the distinc-
tive mark of the earthly Kingdom of God.

Yet one must comment that in the Old Testament shalom also
may be equated with personal as well as social salvation, or is the
sign of salvation. Yet in the Old Testament this fullness of life or
salvation is never simply a positive "social happening." To be sure,
it is not without its sociality. It is a communal happening, sym-
bolized by covenant, and one to which a transcendent God is part-
ner. It is, therefore, never "secular," contrary to Davies, but always
an eschatological event that invokes the transcendent reference to
the Creator. Therefore it is precisely the "sacred" in the midst of
time and change and man's resilient profaneness.

175

Let us examine this thinking a little more closely, since this
view of Davies that salvation is a "social happening" is greatly
characteristic of renewal theology. If salvation is a "social happen-
ing," then we may infer — and indeed Davies encourages us to do
so — that this "social happening" is an obligation of the serious
Christian. Leaving aside the question of adequacy of our qualifi-
cations for this high calling, must we not suppose that it is some-
thing that can be managed or maneuvered by psychological and
sociological know-how, provided we marshall the required means?
Among the means, then, might be sundry power maneuvers. This
was the business of the sixties! Could not these be given a measure
of legitimacy by invoking the phrase "stewardship of power"? It
has a New Testament ring, and we could prosecute the cause under
higher authority and with something of the dignity of a divine
calling like Amos.

If we inquire more narrowly into the nature of the "social
happening" or salvation which prompts our vocation as Christians,
we find a remarkable readiness to equate its substance or content
with relief from whatever impairs or obstructs being "truly human,"
or attaining that fulfillment that belongs to man by nature. At
this point, we do not seem to be far from the Jeffersonian principle
of the inalienable right of all men and women, and others, "to life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" or to their chosen style of
life. In short, the desideratum that should prompt the Christian
vocation in this school of thought is usually the vindication of
justice and right to be "truly human." The "social happening" to
which our vocation is devoted usually does not, however, embrace
the "counsels of perfection" of the Sermon on the Mount! So,
while Christian vocation is reduced to ethics, it is also reduced, as
I read the literature, to liberation of the all-too-human, or the
induction of the "have-nots" into the well furnished community
of the "me-toos."

A third and final characteristic of renewal theology in some of
its forms may be mentioned only briefly, however important. I
mentioned just now the question of our qualifications for this mis-
sion and vocation that is laid upon us as Christians. I think it is
fair to say that contextual theology as a whole has nothing much
to say of sin. That is now left to Karl Menninger! Accordingly,
it looks askance at anything like conversion, denigrates what it
calls proselytism, neglects preaching, and is all but silent either
about the sacraments as means of grace or, likewise, what went
under the title justification by faith in Pauline, Lutheran, or Wes-

176

leyan usage. We can, it then appears, vocate from just where we
are on condition of motivation.

This is to say in other words that this "theology" — largely un-
troubled by sin — is ordinarily very short on the Reformation
theologia crucis and in complete accord with its own logic. The
work of Christ in the forgiveness of sins and the Pauline newness
of life, that once supplied a dimension of transcendence, is a re-
source for which the contextualist does not, regularly, experience
a pressing need. And, furthermore, one of the reasons is that his
view of the context of existence is such that evil has become mostly
externalized. For him man, or woman, or other, is much more
nearly a victim of circumstances rather than that he is, himself, the
problem. Accordingly, nothing is plainer than that "justification
by grace through faith" tends to recede as a legalistic archaism,
and the historic means of grace — conceived as in the keeping of
the Church — are irrelevant to the real problems and issues of man's
life in history, which are taken to be external or environmental.

From all of this it should begin to appear what is meant by
contextualism in theology. What it amounts to is a method for
sifting out the expendable in the Christian tradition and retaining
what is salvageable because it is relevant, by adopted standards of
human need, taken from the prevailing psychological, sociological,
and ethical consensus of the age.

Without hesitancy we may say that this theology is by method
and intent a species of age-old Christian apologetics, the besetting
temptation of which has always been, since the first century, to
acquire self-assurance about the Faith by equating it with some
au courant wisdom of the world and so be justified.

Now then, if we ask how this line of thinking checks out with
the earlier ecumenical movement, the answers are not hard to
come by.

In the first place, the ecumenical movement retained — as Vati-
can II explicitly reaffirmed — the New Testament view of the Church
as "the pilgrim people of God"; it retained as axiomatic the polar
dialectic between the wisdom of God in Christ and the wisdom of
men; it would view as apostate dissolving the sacred into the pro-
fane, and regard as heretical the reduction of the theology of the
cross to ethics. It would regard with profound suspicion any con-
ception of Christian vocation unshaped and unempowered either
by justifying faith or the sacramental means of grace. And Faith

177

and Order at Lund in 1952 or Oberlin in 1957 would have agreed.

In the second place, whereas the ecumenical movement was, at
the center, cutting its teeth and wrestling with problems of "faith
and order" while not leaving "life and work" unattended, con-
textual theology is wholly engrossed in "life and work" and largely
indifferent and sometimes contemptuous of most matters relating
to "faith and order." The latter concerns tend to be regarded as
irrelevant to real human problems. Faith is known by its works,
and concerns for order — polity, ministry, and the means of grace —
bespeak a ghettoized Christianity preoccupied with itself rather
than with human affairs that cry out for better management and
alleviation. Moreover, if the Church is not "the communion of
the saints" but, primarily, a handy instrument of social ameliora-
tion and control, then its destiny is not to preserve its identifiable
unity but to make itself unnecessary in whole-souled identification
with the world's renovation. Behind these fascinating half-truths
lies the premise, with the serious expositors, that History is all the
reality there is and that, in its perfecting, God is "aborning" and,
perhaps, that Christians are stewards of "the future of God." In
short, this theology recurrently shows the signs of a "Christianized"
humanism.

One might go on, if you were not already overtaxed and time
were not finite in its gwen manifestations. What it comes to with
reference to the earlier ecumenical movement may be this: In the
perspective of renewal or contextual theology, in some of its cur-
rent varieties, the faith and order segment of the ecumenical move-
ment is patently rendered banal and superfluous. Practically all
that remains is life and work. But this, in turn, is reduced to the
status of an ethical vocation with sociological ends that has hardly
any grounding in what either historic Protestantism or Catholicism
has understood by Christian faith or its foundation.

If and so far as these things are true and indicate something
of the theological climate of this time, then it is so far understand-
able why it may be true that the earlier ecumenical movement is
presently passing under a cloud. Finally, in the light of such
theological developments as we have briefly surveyed, the question
emerges as to what could justify the older thrust of the ecumenical
movement toward the reunion of the churches, i.e., if the churches
have as their mission to make themselves unnecessary in a world
destined to secularize the sacred in that far off divine event — "the
future of God" — toward which the whole "creation" presumably
moves?

The Bible in Pastoral Counseling

by Richard A. Goodling
Professor of Pastoral Psychology

I. Introduction

Pastoral Counseling, a specialization within the broader field of
pastoral care, has deep Biblical and historical roots. An historical
perspective on pastoral care^ indicates that nothing proposed in
our time to care for troubled souls is really new, yet paradoxically
each pastoral act is and always has been fresh, distinct, and un-
repeatable, a uniquely personal event with its own unique con-
ditions.

Caring for troubled people, met historically within the Church,
has been challenged and enriched by fresh perspectives and insights
from the behavioral sciences and by those across several disciplines
identified as psychotherapists. While there have been other tran-
sition periods calling for the integration of divergent perspectives
from within ministry as well as from without, the task of maintain-
ing historical continuity and professional identity while integrating
insights from other traditions has never seemed more challenging
than at present.

Drawing increasingly upon the insights and methodology of
psychotherapy, pastoral care faces several dangers. As Daniel Day
Williams points out,^ a sectarian gospel of psychological healing
may. be. substituted for the Christian message of salvation through
God's grace. Paul Pruyser^ sees a tendency among contemporary
pastoral care and counseling specialists to neglect and denigrate
the many pastoral resources which the Church has accumulated
over the centuries. He calls us to a "pastoral enabling ministry"
whereby the ministry of the laity is mobilized, developed, and
challenged to provide mutual caring ministries. Gibson Winter
warns* that one-to-one caring relationships often obscure the pas-
toral function of the Church as a fellowship and often turn clergy
away from working for that kind of fellowship in Christ.

II. A Theology of Pastoral Care and Counseling
Pastoral care, as Carroll Wise defines it, is ". . . the art of com-
municating the inner meaning of the Gospel to persons at the

179

point of their need."^ The Gospel was embodied in a Person whose
relationship with persons is the redemptive, reconciling relation-
ship which God offers all persons. John 1:14: "The Word became
flesh and dwelt among us." II Cor. 5:10: "God was in Christ re-
conciling the world unto Himself." And, as Alan Richardson
points out, "After the death and resurrection of Jesus the content
of the Gospel, as it is understood by the Apostolic Church, is Christ
Himself."^

The Church and ministry have as reason for being their role
as vehicles for the re-enactment and continuation in time and
history of Christ's ministry.

... it is not easy verbalisms about the Gospel, but the Spirit of Christ
incarnate in a man which is the deepest and most effective form of com-
munication of the Gospel today. This level of communication is the core
of pastoral care, and should find expression through all of the activities of
the pas tor .7

People suffer not only in estrangement from God as the ground
of their being, but also in estrangement from others in whom their
being is partially grounded. They suffer the damaging, distorting,
dehumanizing experiences with significant others, those who gave
birth to them, whose responses they need to survive in order to
become warm, responsive, responsible human beings. But these
significant others are not always loving, caring, supporting; they
are at times frustrating, disapproving, angry, rejecting; in short,
they are both good and bad. People tend to split or wall off others,
or aspects of others whose presence brought pain. In so doing they
split or wall off those aspects of themselves related to and depen-
dent upon others for development. Thus alienation occurs both
with others and, more profoundly, within. People seek more than
support during their wanderings in the wilderness — they seek a
way back to others and to themselves.

Each person is engaged in a double search: to find ways of
avoiding anxiety and other painful emotions, that is, to avoid
being reminded of unmet needs, hurts, pains; and to find ways of
having these needs met at last. As a result, each person relates to
others conflictually, fearful of yet longing to find a someone.

So the dramas, whether the Divine-Human drama or the human-
human drama, parallel each other; each has its human situations,
with its alienation and anxiety, and each has its hope for someone
to overcome that condition. And the two dramas interact, for the
alienating, distorting factors in one drama carry over into the other.

Following MacQuarrie,^ the more a symbol participates in per-

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sonhood the more relevant it is to this hope. The symbol which
is the most relevant is the symbol which most nearly overcomes the
split between reality and representation. For the individual seek-
ing to be a person that symbol is a person. A person, as a symbol,
has more potential to represent the realities essential to person-
hood than a non-person symbol. Christ becomes such a powerful
symbol because his participation in humanity illuminates our being
and, at the same time, God's being. Christ embodies those realities
which support our being. The most succinct statement on the
fusion of symbol with reality without loss of integrity of either is
contained in John 1:14a, "And the Word became flesh and dwelt
among us."

Christ becomes the one and the model for all those who, in His
name, would overcome the alienation between God and man and
among man and within man. John 10:30: "I and the Father are
one." Matt. 25:40b: "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of
the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." John
17:23: "I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect
in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and
hast loved them, as thou hast loved me."

"What then," writes Daniel Day Williams, "does it mean to be
saved? It means to have one's life in all its good and evil, its hope
and brokenness, restored to participation in the love of God."^
Salvation, as healing and wholeness, is a new relationship to God
and neighbor and self in which the damaging effects of anxiety,
fear, anger, and guilt, which contribute to alienation and distortion,
are overcome. We are using the term salvation in two ways: as
deliverance from personal and interpersonal distortion and as the
reclamation of all life in relation to God. The good news is that
another comes to us, lives with us, overcomes the alienation and
estrangement among us and, perhaps more profoundly, within us.

A theological statement on pastoral care is not pastoral care;
pastoral care is a living relationship in which reconciling love and
healing are manifest. This living relationship is understood, theo-
logically, as the work of the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of God in Christ,
reaching out to the human spirit. It is not enough to tell people
that grace is available for them; rather the pastor must be to them
a person through whom a measure of grace is experienced.

III. The Bible as Symbol

The Bible has overwhelming symbolic strength for many people.
In turn, it contains rich symbols including myths, which are de-

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velopments and elaborations of word symbols into story form. As
a noun, Symbolon referred to a custom of hospitality whereby the
Greek host would give a departing guest a broken off half of a
ring or coin, two parts to be matched on some future occasion,
with each part in the meantime representing the experience of
entertainment, of continuing friendship, and of the anticipated
return.

We may speak of the power of a symbol in two ways: (1) Its
ability to represent, to make present what is meaningful in experi-
ence— that is, to represent the experience and its meaning; (2) Its
ability to orient or point the individual toward experiences which
would, in turn, revitalize the symbol. The symbol stands before
us both to represent our experiencing and to draw us toward ex-
periences which underscore and therefore re-liven and re-vitalize
the symbol. Religious symbols become dead when their dynamic
relationship with the realities of life experiences is lost. The
Pharisees, in the days of Jesus, had developed religion largely as a
ceremonial tradition devoid of meaning in terms of vital life
processes. Religious symbols, when taken literally, lose the dynamic
relationship between symbol and inner reality.

When taken literally, a symbol becomes powerless to effect
new integrations within the personality. A symbol may structure
an inner process which makes a healthy adjustment to life impos-
sible and thereby fosters illness. For example, a young female
patient whose particular god was identified as her father lived
with a god symbol which structured an inner process which inter-
fered with her marriage because it condemned her for having
sexual relations with her husband. Symbols may be used to serve
the forces of concealment, the forces of repression, the forces of
denial. "God's will" as a verbal religious symbol may be used to
expand our understanding of the nature and meaning of life and
to order that life under God; it may also be used to avoid thoughts,
to suppress and seal off feelings, to maintain a narrow understand-
ing of life.

As Rollo May points out, ". . . contemporary man suffers from
the deterioration and breakdown of the central symbols in western
culture."^" Religion is called upon to discover anew the meaning
of life, to embody that meaning in symbols that may be intelligible
and powerful to modern man. In this task, Carroll Wise reminds
us^^ we do not lack for laboratory situations. Our ghettos, civil
disorders, mental hospitals, general hospitals, conflicted personal
and family situations, are laboratories established at considerable

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cost to lay bare errors in patterns of living, to discover anew the
meaning of life, to develop powerful symbols, to revitalize old
symbols, to provide more effective means of ministry.

The critical moments in human existence cry out to be heard,
to be given meaning, to be shared with another, to be responded
to. The Bible offers symbols for such moments. In turn, those for
whom religious symbols are empty and powerless may turn to
critical moments to recapture the meaning of life and its resources
in symbols. The Christian faith seeks those experiences in which
the eternal Logos is re-embodied. The Church cannot take refuge
behind the symbol of word, object, or ritual — these must become
for us more than ghosts of once-living truth.

As indicated, the Bible has overwhelming symbolic strength.
The Bible has the power to evoke responses of fear, awe, reverence.
For some, the Bible has the power of a fetish to neutralize demonic
forces and serves as armor to ward off and protect against dangers —
physical, psychological, spiritual — from without as well as from
within. It may represent past as well as present relationships, thus
putting the person in touch with those to whom he belongs, from
whom he draws support. To the "cloud of witnesses" referred to
in the Bible, each person adds his own from his personal life his-
tory. Some of these may actually be inscribed formally in the front
of his Bible as family history, others are inscribed in memory and
evoked by the presence of the Bible. To a patient, deaf, near death,
the Bible identifies the visitor as a minister, and the act of reading
from the Bible, though he hears not the spoken words, brings him
into a fellowship of concern in the midst of suffering and the threat
of death.

IV. Biblical Discussions as Precounseling

Some pastoral counseling opportunities will grow out of Bible-
focused experiences, whether in worship and preaching, formal
Bible study, or informal private Bible reading. The issues which
bring the parishioner to the pastor are likely, in such instances, to
be identified in the language of the Bible as a scriptural rather
than a personal issue, a question of Biblical understanding rather
than of self-understanding. In Hiltner's terms'- such conversations
might more accurately be identified as pre-counseling.

The person-centered pastor, like the Biblical scholar, would
not take a passage out of its context and argue it from a "proof-
text" position; so neither should a person's Biblical question be
considered out of its context, the historical and contemporary life

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situation of that person. The pastor would do well to begin where
the parishioner begins, the scriptural material, while remaining
sensitive to the parishioner's life situation and to the personal
thoughts and feelings, the perceptions, attitudes, beliefs, which
define the person of the parishioner. But the initial definition will
usually, if not always, be in terms of the Biblical material, and with
the parishioner's elaboration, interpretation, and discussion of that
material, thus drawing upon the parishioner's knowledge about
the Bible and her understanding of that material. In Mark 10:19,
Jesus, in response to the question, "What shall I do that I may
inherit eternal life?" referred to what the questioner knew, from
the scriptures, that related to his question.

Sometimes the pastor moves into the personal by asking the
parishioner what the Biblical figures might have been experiencing,
what they might have been living with, what their thoughts, feel-
ings, hopes, might have been. If not initially, sooner or later the
pastor could suggest that the parishioner's own life experiences
might be spoken to by the scriptural material, thus moving more
directly into personal issues. The pastor could offer tentative
"clarifying" responses which assume that the parishioner might
have this thought or that feeling, this concern or that, as an effort
to translate Biblical and/or impersonal language into personal
language and related to what is known or surmised about the
parishioner's life situation. Another phase in this process of Bib-
lical and self-exploration is the identification and clarification of
"dilemmas," the conflicting thoughts, feelings, attitudes, and beliefs
which lie behind the interest and concern of the parishioner,
whether defined in the context and language of the Bible or that
of the parishioner's personal life. Finally, it is important that the
identified dilemma be redefined in such a way that the question
points toward an answer, the problem as restated points toward a
solution, that movement toward a response, a plan of action, a
decision or position is identified and supported. To the patient
who says, "We're not to question God's will," the response might
be, "While you are uneasy about doing it, you have some questions
to ask about all of this," thus providing support and direction as
pastor and parishioner move into an area of concern. The least
that can be done at times is to suggest that the two of you continue
to "mull over" the issues and talk again at a specified time later.
Jacob wrestled all through the night and people may need to
wrestle with, in a sense let themselves be troubled by, a scriptural

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passage or a life issue for a while before they are able to live into
the answer to their questions.

The person's selective interest in scripture leaves clues concern-
ing what is meaningful to him, where the important areas of his
emotional life, including his pain, are to be found, that is, where
his sources of anxiety lie and how he deals with them.

Oates^^ reports the case of a hospital patient whose psychiatrist
diagnosed her problem to arise from feelings of inadequacy in her
estimate of herself as a woman, as a sexual partner, and as a social
being. She was frightened by her thoughts, cursing God and
weighed down by self-derogatory statements, including the belief
that she had committed the unpardonable sin. The girl felt guilty
about having married and having moved away from her mother,
who had been a mental patient in a state hospital. She also felt
inferior to her mother-in-law and incapable of winning her hus-
band's affections away from his mother. In the intimacy of sexual
relations she was frigid. She said that she thought of herself as
the wicked servant in the parable of the talents, as having buried
her gifts, as having a master who was too hard for her. She wanted
to submit to him but didn't seem able to do so fully. As indicated
in the analysis of this case, the "buried gifts" could indicate the
picture she had of herself as an inadequate marital partner. The
master in the drama was undoubtedly the husband who had re-
placed God in her life. Her marital life must have seemed similar
to that of one living with idols, implicit in her reference to II Cor.
6, which she made in the fifth interview with a minister. She asked,
"What does that Scripture mean when it says that men and women
should not be married who are unequally yoked together with
unbelievers?"

V. General Considerations
A. The Setting

There are several extrinsic factors to be considered in using
the Bible in pastoral counseling. Among these are the context in
which the counseling takes place, the level of Biblical literacy on
the part of the counselee, and his expectations concerning the use
of scriptural and other formal religious resources. Within the
parish context, the counselor-counselee relationship occurs as part
of a larger on-going relationship between minister and parishioner
in which the Bible is frequently a reference in, if not the basis for,
conversation, whether in worship, preaching, church school, or
Bible study. The situation is quite different when counselor and

185

counselee, whether in a parish setting or in that of a pastoral
counseling center or mental health clinic, have not or are not also
engaged in non-counseling Biblically-related conversations. Further-
more, the level of Biblical literacy or sophistication varies from
counselee to counselee. For some, the Bible has the familiarity
of a home to which they return easily and comfortably and with
shared understanding; for others, the Bible is a foreign land, un-
known, holding little or no interest as a place to visit. In like
manner, the expectation of the counselees concerning the use of
the Bible varies from those who consider a counseling conversation
incomplete without a reference to the Bible to those who would
consider such a reference an intrusion at least, and even resented
if it was viewed as taking advantage of a request for personal help
to evangelize or proselyte.

B. Common Concerns

There are problems to be faced when the Bible is used in pas-
toral counseling. Among these are the following:

(1) The Bible may create or intensify an authoritarian climate
in tension with the non-authoritarian, non-judgmental, permissive
climate which the pastor may be attempting to create. The parish-
ioner may expect that the Bible, like the Church and the office of
minister, carry the weight of an authority which will advise or
order, inform or instruct, judge or condemn, to which he must
relate passively, submissively, and obediently. For some, the Bible
will be viewed basically as a book of laws, a collection of "thou
shalts" and "thou shalt nots" which prescribe rules for living.
Frequently the selective and literal interpretation of Bible passages
reflects this legalism. Note for example ethical dilemmas involving
anger (Matt. 5:21-26), sexual desires (Matt. 5:27-30), divorce (Matt.
5:31, 32, and 19:9), homosexuality (Rom. 1:26-32 and I Cor. 6:9),
and abortion (Exodus 20:13). A Biblical interpretation that seeks
the spirit rather than the letter of the scripture, which transcends
a legalistic morality to develop one of freedom and responsible
decision making, is the more difficult way.

(2) Scripture verses, however brief and focused, carry a freight
of meaning, a symbolic overload which is more than the experience
of the moment conveys and which may be more than the person
is able to deal with at the moment. As Rogers^^ has indicated, an
aim of psychotherapy is to let each experience tell us its meaning.
The usual alternative is to distort experiences to fit the meanings
already assigned. For example, the person committed to the belief

186

that he hates his parents has to distort or deny any feeHngs of
warmth and affection. In pastoral counseling, symbols which grow
out of the person's experiencing rather than those offered from
outside that immediate experiencing seem more accurate, more
sharply and personally focused, and more powerful. For example,
one client used the recovery of a plant in my office as the symbol
representing her hope for her own renewal.

(3) The use of the Bible, however well-intentioned, may at
times support and reinforce destructive processes operative in a
person's life. Oates^^ describes the case of a man who went to his
pastor in acute anxiety over homosexual thoughts and behavior.
The pastor stressed the importance of self-control and gave him
a copy of the Bible to read to control his homosexual thoughts and
impulses. He also told the man to place the Bible under his pillow
to drive away his evil thoughts and dreams and help him get rest.
The man was on the verge of an active paranoid state, and the
pastor's advice unwittingly reinforced that state and may have
hastened his hospitalization.

(4) References to the Bible and specific scriptural passages may
move away from experiencing on a feeling level to experiencing
on an intellectual or rational level. They may also take the coun-
selee outside her present and historical relationships into another
time, place, and set of relationships, into the drama of Biblical
scenes, thereby placing distance between herself and her drama.

(5) The Bible may be used to reinforce one's defenses, to rein-
force denial, to maintain and strengthen repression, to support
fixed beliefs about oneself and others. We do need defenses, of
course, but some defenses are less adequate than others and, in
certain circumstances, such as during psychotherapy, may need to
be challenged, broken through, and dropped or modified, to get to
conflicted areas and to achieve conflict resolution. Conceivably,
"daily" Bible reading, for all its positive contributions, could for
a particular individual, be a ritualistic warding off of anxiety
through obsessional-type behavior and a warding off of a psycho-
therapeutic relationship in particular and personal and social re-
lationships more generally.

These problems and others that could be identified are not
presented as inherent in the Bible, but represent misuse of the
Bible and its material. Psychic factors are responsible for this
misuse, as they are for the misuse of all personal resources. The
answer is not to discard the resource, but to work with those factors
which interfere with, block, and distort being in touch with and

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drawing upon personal and interp>ersonal resources. Sometimes
this means using one's authority as one knowledgeable in the Bible
to counter beliefs which bind up rather than free life processes.
Sometimes this means identifying Biblical passages which present
conflicting opinions and open up, if not force, a broader perspec-
tive. Sometimes this means translating Biblical language into per-
sonal language. Sometimes this means setting aside the Bible until
the exploration of personal life experiences enables one to return
to the Bible with fewer personal conflicts to distort the use of the
Bible as a resource.

V. The Field of Pastoral Counseling

Pastoral counselors, historically, have had a poor image among
professional counselors and psychotherapists. In the "Wizard of
Oz," when Dorothy discovered the Wizard was no wizard, she
accused him of being a bad man. He said, "No, I am a good man,
but a bad wizard." This might be said of many pastoral coun-
selors. They were good men and women but poor counselors. With
the development of Clinical Pastoral Education over the past fifty
years, ministers so trained have achieved competency as interper-
sonal caring specialists. In 1964 the American Association of Pas-
toral Counselors was established. Well grounded in psychodynamic
understanding and in psychotherapeutic theory and practice, with
a sense of professional calling and desirous of maintaing and pro-
moting standards of professional competency, pastoral counselors
organized to establish standards of practice, to set criteria for ac-
crediting pastoral counselors and training programs, and to provide
for professional fellowship and professional enrichment. Carl W.
Christensen, a psychiatrist teaching in the Departments of Psychi-
atry at Northwestern Medical School and the University of Illinois
writes:

. . . most psychiatrists to whom I've talked concerning pastoral counseling
are amazed to learn that the average Garrett-Northwestern graduate pas-
toral psychotherapist has had more supervision in individual and group
therapy than most psychiatrists had during their residence training. And
yet, many professional therapists, insurance company adjusters, and gov-
ernment bureaucrats have no concept of pastoral therapy. They tend to
equate it with the simple naive counseling of the good shepherd.i6
For a further breakdown of pastoral counseling in terms of models,
methods, and objectives, the reader is referred to Howard Cline-
bell's text, Basic Types of Pastoral Counseling."

VI. Ways of Relating the Bible to Pastoral Counseling
There are at least four identifiable ways of relating the Bible

188

to pastoral counseling: (1) as a diagnostic tool; (2) as an answer to
questions; (3) as a means of identifying and facilitating counseling
processes; (4) as a means of identifying and exploring major coun-
seling themes.

A. The Diagnostic Value of the Bible

Freud considered dreams as the "royal road" to the unconscious.
The Bible may serve as the pastor's "royal road" to deeper levels
of the personalities and motive patterns of his people and to an
understanding of the dynamic factors in their distresses. The rich-
ness of the Bible, the breadth of experiences represented, the wide
diversity of interpretations possible, enable people to be selective
in their perceptions and individualistic in their interpretations.
Therefore, what is meaningful to the person may reflect more
accurately who he is and what his life situation is like than it does
about the Bible itself. The pastor has a dual concern in this
regard: the accuracy of the exegetical material on the one hand
and what is being revealed about the interpreter on the other. The
pastor must decide, moment by moment, whether she will relate to
the exegetical issue or the personal issue. It is apparent that to
relate to the exegetical issue postpones and, perhaps, even seals
off, self-exploration, conflict identification, insight, and conflict
resolving processes.

The Bible, it is suggested, may be a "projective" device, a mirror
into which a person projects perceptions of self and others, feelings,
emotions, attitudes, which in turn are reflected back with accuracy.
In James 1:22-24 we read:

Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if any

one is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who observes

his natural face in a mirror; for he observes himself and goes away and at

once forgets what he is like.
In terms of ego defenses, we are dealing with the concept of pro-
jection, or in Biblical language, scapegoating, a process whereby
a thought, feeling, impulse is disowned and assigned to another.
Matt. 7:3: "And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy
brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own
eye?"

What the Thematic Apperception Test, and other projective
tests, is to the psychologist, the Bible as a book of pictorial illustra-
tions is to the pastor. The T.A.T. is based upon the principle
that the individual has specific needs that occur in response to the
"press" of the environment, that perception and interpretation are
shaped by needs. ^^

189

Draper, et al.^^ have reported a remarkable study in which high
rater agreement was found on sorting patients into psychiatric
diagnostic categories using solely responses to questions concerning
religious beliefs and interests such as favorite Bible story, favorite
Bible passage, favorite Bible character. Rater agreement was as
high as agreement using traditional psychiatric interviewing life
history materials.

This emphasis on the diagnostic use of the Bible tempts one
to see only the personality of the interpreter and, in the extreme, to
see only illness in religious expressions. It would be well to ask,
'What truth is being expressed, however distorted, in the indi-
vidual's expressions?' Perhaps in the distortion, truth is being
expressed, truth not only about the illness of the person but the
illness of the society and culture around him. Perhaps also we fail
to hear the theological question in the midst of illness statements,
to dismiss the person's statements as illness statements and not as
statements of alienation and estrangement and sin as well. The
use of Bible study in work with a person hospitalized for emotional
difficulties and a discussion of questions such as these is to be found
in an article by Parker, to which the reader is referred.^*'

B. The Bible as Answers to Questions

The Bible through tradition and training is the pastor's major
text. Its descriptions of life parallel the lives of those shepherded;
its questions parallel those posed by people; it offers answers to
those hassled by life's questions.

Not surprisingly, pastor and laity alike are apt to turn to the
Bible to find identification with their life situations. There are
words there with which to match their cries. The sufferer's cry
for relief and the desire on the part of the pastor to provide that
relief lead them frequently to search, sometimes in prooftext
fashion, for scriptural verses which will bring them out of their
distress. Like a physician prescribing specific drugs for specific
illness, the pastor is tempted to offer specific scriptural verses for
specific life questions: a verse for fear, anxiety, guilt, hate, inade-
quacy, despair. Such prescriptions, to be sure, are sincere efforts to
draw upon the Bible for wisdom and understanding, for care and
compassion, for comfort and support, for acceptance and forgive-
ness, for affection and love, for courage and strength", for that
which would be Good News for this person at this moment. But
answers to personal problems are not arrived at through prescrip-
tions but through work — the identification, the experiencing, the

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expression, the working through of feelings and emotions in a
relationship with a person, not merely with words.

G. The Bible and Counseling Processes

Pastoral counseling consists of at least three distinct forms of
counseling models, methods, and objectives: Crisis Counseling,
Pastoral Counseling, and Pastoral Psychotherapy. Each form has
its distinctive process and structure and ways of interviewing to
facilitate the unfolding of that process. That process and its struc-
ture is in turn a response to those processes and structures which
represent problems in living. Let us consider some of these and
their implications for the use of the Bible in such situations.

All pastors are involved, continually, in Crisis Counseling.
Switzer^i provides a model for crisis intervention. Basically Crisis
Counseling situations have in common acute anxiety in the face
of situational or environmental stress and a sense of helplessness
and dependency. Such people need a "good parent" from whom
they can receive comfort, affection, protection, guidance, support,
and limits (particularly when dangerous to themselves or others).
They need the opportunity to ventilate, to express their intense
feelings in an emotional catharsis. They probably need some sup-
port for their defenses; the acute phase is not the time to challenge,
confront, or attack their defenses. They need a more objective
view of the problem, a broader view, a view in perspective. They
may need some assistance in changing the environmental or life
situation which is causing or contributing to the acute distress.
They need some immediate plan of action, some next step to take.

Both personality theory and the Bible may be considered gen-
erally as maps to read the terrain of experiencing, to serve both as
identification points and as directions in which to move. They
help to form and shape the pastor's responses to facilitate the flow
of the process. Crisis Counseling, following Erich Berne's Parent-
Adult-Child system22 consists in lowering the fear and guilt and
anger of the Child in the presence of the pastor's nurturing Parent,
and by mobilizing and encouraging the Adult to face reality and
take action. The scripturally knowledgeable pastor will be in
touch with those responses, whether structured in Biblical or per-
sonal language, which enable the parishioner to be at times as a
little child, to return to the father at other times, and to put away
childish things at still other times.

The direct use of the Bible by the pastor is more likely to
occur in Crisis Counseling than in either Pastoral Counseling or in

191

Pastoral Psychotherapy, since such situations call for immediate
support, quick identification and release of intense feelings and
emotions, increased perspective, and a plan of action.

Other common crisis situations have their own similar yet dis-
tinctive processes, structures and defined forms of intervention.
Lindemann23 has outlined the grief process and defined grief work.
Clinebell provides this analysis for the alcoholic,^^ for the alco-
holic's mate and family,25 and for the mentally ill.^e Beavers pre-
sents a model for crisis intervention in marriage and family con-
flict,27 and Hunt elaborates upon a model for the crisis of divorce.^s
Oates also has helpful material on the process of marital conflict.^^

Pastoral Counseling, in contrast to Depth Counseling or Pas-
toral Psychotherapy, is likely to be short-term, although a sup-
portive, sustaining relationship may extend over a considerable
period of time, but it is not likely to be an intense relationship,
with conversations occurring no more frequently than weekly and
usually less frequently. Pastoral counseling focuses on conscious
rather than unconscious material, on reality experiences rather
than on transference experiences, on present rather than historical
relationships, on letting the counsellee "set the pace" rather than
be pressed by the counselor to move into anxiety arousing material,
on the person's strengths rather than upon his weaknesses, on effec-
tive coping behavior rather than upon self-defeating behavior, on
growth issues rather than upon pathological conditions, on en-
hancement and enrichment rather than on destructive and crip-
pling intrapsychic factors, on emotional problems realistically and
appropriately related to life circumstances rather than upon un-
conscious and distorted emotions. Again, the pastor's understand-
ing of the scriptures and of the processes of life events and of coun-
seling relationships enriches both his maps of the terrain people
travel with their emotional experiencing, their search for meaning,
and the selection of facilitating and growth promoting interven-
tions.

Pastoral Psychotherapy is also a process with discernible stages:
the contract or covenant, the terms of the working relationship
between therapist and client; the alliance or colleagueship; trans-
ference and countertransference and other forms of resistance in-
cluding acting in and acting out; therapeutic interventions of
clarification, confrontation, interpretation, and working through;
and termination. Pastoral psychotherapy is not likely to begin
until the person acknowledges that he brings his concerns about
himself, his pain, to the relationship, that his problems lie in the

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realm of feelings, emotions, attitudes, not in the realm of the
intellect or ideas and rational beliefs, that he is in conflict, not
just with others but more basically within himself. Therefore, the
Bible is not likely to be referred to initially. Bible references, when
used judiciously and sparingly by the therapist, are intended to
facilitate and intensify the therapeutic process. Covenant, for
example, implies more importance and a more personal, mutual
agreement than the term contract. Resistance might be identified
and brought into sharper focus by recalling a Biblical passage
such as that concerning the two sons who were asked to work in
the vineyard, with the second son saying, "I go, sir," and going not
(Matt. 21:30); or that of Jonah who was asked to go in one direc-
tion, to Nineveh, and went, instead, in the opposite direction to
Tarshish. Biblical terms for the process of projection may have
more impact: scapegoating, or "all have sinned," or a statement
such as "Perhaps you feel yourself worthy of casting the first stone."
The essence of growth is the necessity and willingness to give up
something in order to attain something higher. But people remain
fixated or regress. There is the Biblical challenge to ". . . lose one's
life ... in order to find it," to leave mother and father and cleave
to one's mate, to think, speak, and act like a child but then to put
away childish things. Some resist moving into their feelings and
need to be reminded that it is as we mourn that we are comforted
(Matt. 5:4). Frozen emotions, whether of love and sexuality or
anger and resentment, are conflicted emotions (Matt. 5:24). The
gift of intimacy and love cannot be given until anger and resent-
ment are worked through. Furthermore, unexpressed and unre-
solved conflicted feelings leave one vulnerable (Matt. 5:25).

Unfortunately, there are verses which may be used in the service
of repression. "That whosoever is angry with his brother without
a cause shall be in danger of the judgment" (Matt. 5:22). How-
ever, the emphasis on "without a cause" may free up anger, since
the therapist supports the belief that there is "cause" for a person's
anger. Furthermore, he represents the distinction made between
thought and deed, between hate and lust which may, indeed, hurt
the person, and between the expressions of hate and lust which
hurt another, while taking seriously the realization that the thought
may be the parent of the deed.

Before leaving this section we might also point out the parallel
between the client's testing the limits to see if he can gain control
over the therapy relationship, to see if he can obtain tacit approval
for acting out behavior, to see if he can force the therapist to

193

.escue him, and the temptations Jesus faced '" '^e ""'^ -
he sought to identity who he was and how he would relate
needs of people.
D The Bible and Counseling Themes

A fourth major way of relating the Bible to pastoral counseling
is tha" ic Jhile psychiatric cases dramatize the relat.onsh.p
between the dynamics'of patient problems and the "- *ey make
of Biblical material, this relationship exists, m more subtle and
°ess Ob Tous form in less intensely conflicted people. One need not
Hmit themes to those defined psychia.rically the Btble as a com-
rehensive portrayal of life, with its rich and vaned dramas em-
fa aces n one form or another all of existence. Sometimes these
d am s are acutely and intensely played, as in cr.s.s s.tuattons;
soCtimes these dJamas represent the complex, conflated h-dden.
buried neurotic core of parent-child interactions. Sometmies these
dramas represent on-going existential concerns of -eamng^ va ue
nurpose the anxieties of our existence, structures which cannot
LTedlrather they are the objects of -v";-' ^^^f Vrt^T
dramas involve the celebrative moments m the hfe cycle. Truly,
the Bible is the Book of Life. But can and will it read?

A„. .he vision o, aU . beco.e to V";. - '^e wo,.s o^ a b„<.U iha.^i

:£^a:r>re z^^ ::z. r.r,:'^::: ^i/u-e .o. . ^^^

* him that is L .earned, saying, 'Read this, I pra, thee, and he sai.h,
•I cannot lor I am not learned.' (Isa. 29:11-12)

What are some of these themes? Surely a major theme has to
do ^th the drama between the forces of good and ev. of light and
darLess of life and death, of health and illness, of growth anc^
stagnat on of progression and regression, of the courageous painfu
step fo ward and the retreat in fright. "See, I have set before thee
2 day life and good and tleath -^ -il ,;, - *erefo- ^*^^^^^
life, that thou mayest live, thou and thy seed (D<:"' , ™- '*' ;'
Th battle is an internal one and may be «'--'"^<*- ™"f
in psychotherapy as resistance and, in an intense form, as the nega
tive transference. As Freud indicated,"
- resistance "^-P-s .^^^^^^^^^^^^^

^rtarrndtpi:; a-rpromise hetween the torces ihat are striving
towards recovery and the opposing ones.

The myth of Adam and Eve has its several 'hemes including
the oroble n of authority. In Adam and Eve we find the first act
o' d'obedLce, the prototype of the rebellion against authority.

194

and disobedience morality, with its accompanying guilt and punish-
ment. The myth also presents the first human act in self-awareness
and accompanying freedom to be used responsibly or irresponsibly.
Furthermore, the question arises, 'How little or how much au-
thority does the person claim?' or 'What is this person's source of
authority?' Or 'Given his authority, how does he relate to others,
forcing his will on others or living as a servant to all?'

Sibling rivalry and Oedipal problems are reflected in such
stories as that of Joseph and his family and that of Jacob, Rachel,
and Leah.

Hate is another powerful theme both in the Bible and in Pas-
toral Counseling. A patient, a mother, entered her daughter's bed-
room with a pair of scissors with the intent of killing her daughter.
For her, the story of Abraham's offering of his son, Isaac, as a
sacrifice gave her the opportunity to discharge her aggression toward
her daughter under the guise of a sacrifice to God. The child had
been conceived before she was married, and her father had con-
demned and had never forgiven her. She, in turn, turned her
hatred toward her daughter, whom she blamed for the alienation
between her and her father, a hatred which was intensified by her
husband, who centered his affection on their child. The two-fold
task in therapy involved helping her identify who her god was —
in this case the father, for whom she was about to sacrifice her
child as a peace offering to placate his anger — and by helping her
take responsibility for her resentment toward her child and see
the misplaced nature of this anger.^^

The tyranny of expectations becomes another major theme.
Meeting every expectation is a form of enslavement. Pleasing
another, that is, being good, or in religious terms pious, can become
a crushing and suffocating burden. The Pharisees, scrupulous in
their observance of God's commandments, were referred to by
Jesus as "whited sepulchres" (Matt. 23:27). Believing that they had
chosen life, they imposed upon themselves binding conformity to
laws so detailed as to stifle life. Paul, a Pharisee liberated by Jesus
Christ, realized that "the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life"
(II Cor. 3:6). Neurotics, weighed down by the burden of the very
efforts they make to live, despair over meeting the endless demands
made upon them.

The themes of Bible and pastoral counseling are as endless as
life, and as inexhaustible. The person who has difficulty setting
limits and accepting limits might well struggle with his concept of
God; the tendency to go it alone, to be aggressively independent.

195

might be related to Jesus' claim that we are part of a larger family;
the tendency to intellectualize, to relate with words, to give defini-
tions rather than feelings, might be related to ". . . the word
became flesh and dwelt among us"; the struggle to remain fixed,
static, predictable might be related to the answer given to Moses
when he asked the name of God and was told, "I am becoming
what I am becoming."

VII. Concluding Statement

Pastoral care and counseling, and ministry more generally, are
a living out of a faith assertion, namely, that vital, sustaining,
renewing, healing relationships are available and, claming the title
of minister, an offering of these relationships in the name of Christ.
To offer such relationships the minister as pastoral counselor has
at least two major responsibilities to meet:

(1) That of knowing the Biblical, theological, and psychological
concepts, theories, perspectives, concerning both the common and
the unique, the routine and the critical life dramas which char-
acterize human experiences. The pastoral counselor must know
the content, the structures, the processes of significant life events
as these are defined through the best that the theological and
psychological disciplines have to offer.

(2) That of being able to participate and share in all of life's
experiences as these are met, as they unfold and flow along within
and among people. Effectiveness in meeting these two responsi-
bilities defines the minister's competency as a pastoral counselor.
From the perspective of the Bible this means that the pastoral
counselor must be able to translate the Bible out of the realm of
the authoritarian and the symbolic into the realm of interpreted
meaningfulness, the realm of personal and interpersonal realities,
where its meanings touch life, speak for life, and speak to life.
From the perspective of counseling theory and practice, it means
being able to structure relationships so that personal and inter-
personal feelings may be touched, expressed, and explored, their
conflicts identified and resolution sought. The relationship between
symbols of Bible, of Creed, of personality theory on the one hand,
and experience on the other may be mutually supportive and
mutually revelatory: experience cries out for symbols with which
to speak, with which to have meaning, with which to share, and
symbols seek experiences to represent, to re-vitalize, to empower.
In that effort to relate meaning and experience, people find the
salvation of release, restoration, and fulfillment.

196

References

1. William Clebsch and Charles Jackie, Pastoral Care in Historical Perspec-
tive (Prentice-Hall, 1964), p. 1.

2. Daniel Day Williams, The Minister and the Care of Souls (Harper &
Brothers, 196!), p. 12.

3. Paul Pruyser, "The Use and Neglect of Pastoral Resources," Pastoral-
Psychology, Vol. 23, No. 225, September 1972, pp. 5-17.

4. Gibson Winter, "Pastoral Counseling or Pastoral Care," Pastoral Psychol-
ogy, Vol. 8, No. 71, February 1957, pp. 16-22.

5. Carroll Wise, The Meaning of Pastoral Care (Harper & Row, 1966), p. 8.

6. Alan Richardson, A Theological Word Book of the Bible (Macmillan Co.,
1951), p. 100.

7. Carroll Wise, The Meaning of Pastoral Care (Harper & Row, 1966), pp. 10-11. .

8. John MacQuarrie, Principles of Christian Theology (Charles Scribner's.&
Son, 1966).

9. Daniel Day Williams, The Minister and the Care of Souls, op. cit.

10. Rollo May, Symbolism in Religion and Literature (George Braziller, In<f.,
1960), p. 22. ;•■ •

11. Carroll A. Wise, Religion in Illness and Health (Harper and Brothers,
1942).

12. Seward Hiltner, Pastoral Counselors (Abingdon, 1949).

13. Wayne E. Gates, The Bible in Pastoral Care, op. cit.

14. Carl Rogers, Client Centered Therapy (Houghton Mifflin Co., 1951), p. 97.

15. Wayne Gates, The Bible in Pastoral Care (Westminster Press, 1953), p. 17.

16. Carl W. Christensen, Pilgrimage, Vol. 3, No. 3, Summer, 1975, pp. 4-9,
quote on page 7.

17. Howard Clinebell, Basic Types of Pastoral Counseling (Abingdon Press,
1966).

18. H. A. Murray, Explorations in Personality (Gxford University Press, 1938).

19. Draper, et al., "Gn the Diagnostic Value of Religious Ideation," Archives
of General Psychiatry, XIII, Sept. 1965, pp. 201-207. Draper, Edgar, George G.
Meyer, Zane Parzen, Gene Samuelson.

20. Duane Parker, "Pastoral Resources in the Treatment of a Mentally 111
Person: A Dialogue About a Patient's Rights and a Chaplain's Responsibility,"
Journal of Pastoral Care, Vol. XXIX, No. 2, June 1975, 111-128.

21. Howard Clinebell, Basic Types of Pastoral Counseling (Abingdon Press,
1966).

22. Eric Berne, Transactional Analysis in Psychotherapy (Grove Press, 1961).

23. Eric Lindemann, "Symptomatology and Management of Acute Grief,"
Pastoral Psychology, XIV, September 1963, 8-18.

24. Howard Clinebell, Understanding and Counseling the Alcoholic (Abingdon
Press, 1956).

25. Howard Clinebell, "Pastoral Care of the Alcoholic's Family Before So-
briety," Pastoral Psychology, April, 1962, pp. 19-29.

26. Howard Clinebell, "Ministering to the Mentally 111 and Their Families,"
Mental Health Through Christian Community, Chap. 11.

27. W. Robert Beavers, "The Application of Family Systems Theory to Crisis
Intervention," Chapter VII in The Minister As Crisis Counselor, by David
Switzer (Abingdon Press, 1974).

28. Richard A. Hunt, "The Minister and Divorce Crisis," Chapter VIII, The
Minister As Crisis Counselor, ibid.

29. Wayne E. Gates, "The Protestant Pastor as a Marriage Counselor," in
Protestant Pastoral Counseling (The Westminster Press, 1962).

30. Sigmund Freud, Standard Edition, 1912, p. 102-3.

31. Wayne E. Gates, The Bible in Pastoral Care, op. cit.

Theological Reflections on the

Reformation and the Status of

Women

by David C. Steinmetz
Professor of Church History and Doctrine

The role of women in the Reformation has become an increas-
ingly popular subject for research during the last decade. His-
torians have always been fascinated with the role of political figures
such as Elizabeth I or her sister, Mary Tudor, in the formation of
the character and institutions of Protestant Christianity in England.
Catherine de Medici and Marguerite d'AngouIeme in France, while
less well known than their English counterparts, have nevertheless
received considerable attention in scholarly journals and books.
The poetry of Vittoria Colonna in Italy, the mystical writings of
St. Teresa of Avila in Spain, and the polemical tracts of Katherine
Zell in Alsace made individually and together an important impact
on the development of popular religious beliefs in Europe in the
16th century. Even the women who are remembered primarily for
the men whom they married have left their own impress on the
history of the Reformation era, from Katherina von Bora, whose
tightfisted management of the financial affairs of the Luther house-
hold has become legendary, to the quiet Wibrandis Rosenblatt,
who had the unusual distinction of marrying in succession three
of the most important reformers: Johannes Oecolampadius, Wolf-
gang Capito, and Martin Bucer.

Women made a significant contribution to the spread and
establishment of the Protestant Reformation, even if they did not
(with very few exceptions) write commentaries on Scripture, occupy
important European pulpits, or compose technical essays in theol-
ogy. But the reverse proposition is also true: the Reformation,
both in its ideology and in combination with other social forces,
effected a change in the status of European women. The impli-
cations of what took place then are worth considering as we ponder
the respective roles of men and women in Church and society today.

198

The Council of Florence in 1439 declared officially that marriage
was a sacrament and that it bestowed a triple good. (1) The pro-
creation of children, by which was meant not simply the biological
act of reproduction but also the nurture and education of children
for a productive role in society. This control of sexual drives
within structures which took responsibility for the personal and
biological effects of sexual intercourse provided, to use the quaint
but painfully accurate phrase, "a remedy for concupiscence." (2)
Mutual society, which was generally interpreted to mean a per-
petual monogamous covenant between a man and a woman, one
which emphasized fidelity and trust over the fluctuations of feeling
and passion. (3) Indissolubility. As Christ loved the Church with
a commitment which never fails, so men and women were to love
each other and to rear their children in the love and fear of God.
vSuch love implies mutual sacrifice and devotion and excludes from
the outset all possibility of divorce. Only if Christ can be sepa-
rated from the Church can the marriage bond between husband
and wife be dissolved.

While the late medieval Church exalted the institution of
marriage in language which can scarcely be surpassed, it also praised
virginity as a higher moral state and required its clergy to be
celibate. Though some late medieval figures, such as Nicholas de
Blony, taught that marriage was as meritorious as celibacy, the
majority of late medieval clergy agreed with the opinion of the
famous Strassburg preacher, John Geiler of Kaysersberg, who ob-
served that marriage is honorable but not preferable to the state
of celibacy.

There were, after all, in the Bible plenty of sayings which lent
support to the development of a celibate ethic. Paul had indicated
that celibacy was preferable to marriage, not because of a general
world-weariness, but because the celibate minister was delivered
from family cares and responsibilities and was therefore free to be
devoted completely to the work of the gospel. Jesus had praised
those disciples who became eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven,
even though it is impossible to regard Jesus as an ascetic in the
ordinary sense of the term. And after the triumph of Christianity
in Europe celibacy was one of the few forms of martyrdom still
accessible to the grandchildren of Cyprian and Perpetua.

The celibate ethic was reinforced by a distinction between com-
mands and counsels. Commands are ethical requirements binding

199

on all Christians, such as the prohibition of murder or adultery.
Counsels, on the other hand, are moral requirements binding on
an elite within the Church who have obligated themselves by a
vow to a more rigorous standard of Christian discipleship. Among
the counsels are the sayings of Jesus on non-retaliation, the renun-
ciation of private property, and the desirability of a celibate life.
Ever since canon 33 of the Council of Elvira (ca. 300) clerical
celibacy had been enjoined in the West. The laity, however, were
only required to keep the commandments concerning adultery and
fornication.

The celibate ethic received important encouragement from the
writings and example of St. Augustine, who could find for himself
no middle ground between asceticism and sexual license. Augustine
did not teach that original sin was transmitted from generation to
generation by the sexual act itself (that would be Manichean), but
by the inordinate self-regard of the sexual partners who think of
themselves more highly than they ought to think and who will
their own good rather than the good of their spouses. Biology was
not the culprit, though original sin was connected with human
sexual activity in the broader sense. While the celibate Christian
did not participate in the admitted goods of marriage, the celibate
was also free of responsibility for its unfortunate side-effects.

The emphasis on celibacy as the preferred state for the serious
Christian and the obligation of the clergy to remain celibate created
a permanent class of men not fully integrated into society. Because
the clergy had no wives and families of their own, they were re-
garded by the suspicious laity (and not always unjustly) as a per-
petual threat to the stability of the home. Instances of anti-clerical
sentiment in the late 15th and early 16th centuries, especially anti-
clerical sentiment relating to the alleged sexual offenses of some of
the clergy, are all too easy to find in the sources.

In 1519 a group of canons in Strassburg, returning from a
drunken party, were attacked by a group of citizens who regarded
them as a danger to the moral purity of their wives and daughters.
John Murner, brother of the rabidly anti-feminist Franciscan friar,
Thomas Murner, accused the canons of Young St. Peter's Church
in Strassburg of seducing his sister. In January of 1520 two women
charged three members of the clergy, including the vicar of the
Strassburg cathedral, with breaking into their homes at midnight
and making improper sexual advances. When the women resisted,
they were beaten. Needless to say, the guilty clergy were fined and
imprisoned by the Strassburg city council.

200

Even the confessional was regarded with suspicion by the laity.
The Eisenach preacher, Jacob Strauss, attacked the confessional
practice of the late medieval clergy as profoundly unsettling to the
peace and stability of Christian family life:

In the confessional simple folk learn things about sin and evil which
have never occurred to them before, and which need not ever have occurred
to them! The confessional is a schooling in sin. It is known and many
thousand can attest how often mischievous and perverse monks out of their
shameless hearts have so thoroughly and persistently questioned young girls
and boys, innocent children, and simple wives about the sins of the flesh
in their cursed confessional corners that more harm was done there to
Christian chasteness and purity than in any whorehouse in the world. He
is considered a good father confessor who can probe into every secret recess
of the heart and instill into the innocent penitent every sin his flesh has
not yet experienced. They want to know from virtuous wives all the cir-
cumstances of the marital duty — how their husbands do it [certain "un-
natural" positions were very serious sins], how often, how much pleasure
it brings, when it is done, and the like. In this way new desires and lusts
are stimulated within the weak. They even teach poor wives not to submit
to their husbands on certain holidays and during Lent.i

If clergy were regarded by the laity as a threat to the stability
of the home, women were regarded by clergy as a threat to their
celibacy and moral purity. Sebastian Brant, himself a layman, gave
expression to this sentiment when he wrote his masterpiece, The
Ship of Fools (1494):

Who sees too much of women's charms
His morals and his conscience harms;
He cannot worship God aright
Who finds in women great delight.2

In a time of moral decline and disintegration (and Brant like
Geiler of Kaysersberg was convinced he lived in such a time of
moral decay), the "frailty" of women constitutes a perpetual temp-
tation for a celibate clergy, whose vows require them to abstain
from sexual activity, but whose vocation brings them in constant
contact with the wives and daughters of laymen. Not all clergy
were able to resist the temptations strewn in their path. Friar
Martin Luther, O.E.S.A., had no difficulty keeping his celibate
vows; Father Huldrych Zwingli and Friar Martin Bucer, O.P., were
not so morally heroic.

Many clergy took concubines, a practice winked at by some
ecclesiastical superiors and even taxed by a few bishops as a way
of raising additional revenues for the diocese. The Protestant
reformer, Heinrich Bullinger, was born into such a clerical "family."
But clergy who took concubines rather than place themselves in

201

the path of a temptation which they did not trust themselves to
resist placed themselves in another kind of moral dilemma. The
relationship between a priest and his housekeeper, however regu-
larized and accepted, was still in the eyes of the Church fornication.
Men and women who lived in this relationship had to do so in the
knowledge that they were committing mortal sin and in danger of
punishment by God. Furthermore, when a priest died, his widow
was left without inheritance and his children without a name. As
far as civil and canon law were concerned, the pastor's wife — no
matter how faithful she had been to him — was only the priest's
whore. She had no claims against the estate which she could prose-
cute and no position in society which she could occupy.

The Protestant Reformation constituted a sustained attack on
the celibate ethic and a re-emphasis on the dignity of the institu-
tion of marriage. Protestants did not deny that some men and
women are called to a celibate life, though they regarded all claims
to a celibate vocation with considerable suspicion, but they rejected
the contention that celibacy should be made a law binding on all
clergy. A vow in the very nature of the case destroys Christian
freedom. While some Christians may be called to celibacy, alll
Christians are assuredly called to a life of freedom. Therefore!
celibacy which is received as a gift and is exercised in freedom may
be celebrated as an authentic form of Christian discipleship.
Celibacy which is made a law and enforced by a binding vow
destroys the freedom which belongs to the essence of the Christian
life and must therefore be rejected. Celibacymay be a charism: it
may never be a law.

The distinction between commands and counsels was also re-
jected by Protestants, though not by all Protestants in exactly the
same way. The Anabaptists, for example, concluded that non-
resistance and pacifism were binding on all Christians, who were
excluded by the teachings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount
from all participation in public and political life. Luther, on the
other hand, distinguished between what a Christian was permitted
to do in all matters which touched his own case exclusively (here
the rigorous precepts of Jesus apply directly) and what he was
obliged to do for the sake of his neighbor who would be left at the
mercy of sinful and rapacious men if he refused in such cases to
resist evil forcibly. Christian love and responsibility even permit
one to discharge the role of public executioner, though Christ for-

202

bids one to take revenge or to seek justice in a purely personal
matter. But whether one followed Luther or the Anabaptists or
any of the shades of Protestant opinion in between, all Protestants
agreed that the distinction between commands and counsels was
unacceptable in principle. The gifts and demands of the gospel
are equally relevant for all Christians, clerical and lay. There is
no heroic elite in the Church; or, perhaps one should say, all
Christians are called to join that heroic elite. There is one standard
of sanctity for all Christians.

No reason could be found by the Protestants for urging celibacy
on their clergy. The pastor (only men were ordained in the 16th
century) is not ontologically distinct from the laity. He has received
no indelible character which communicates to him a sacramental
power denied to the laity. The ministry of Word and sacrament
belongs inherently to the common priesthood conferred on all
Christians, male and female, in their baptism. Lay Christians exer-
cise that ministry in private as they carry God's Word of judgment
and grace to their neighbor. The pastor is ordained to preach that
Word in public and preside at the Church's celebration of baptism
and the eucharist. The distinction between clergy and layperson
is primarily functional within the body of Christ, though no one
may exercise that function who has not been called to do so by
God (rite vocatus) and acknowledged and confirmed in that office
by some local congregation of believers. There is no reason, there-
fore, why the pastor — who diff^ers from the laity only in function
and vocation — should not marry and rear his own family. Indeed,
the exercise of his vocation is helped rather than hindered by his
family life and participation in ordinary social responsibilities.

Together with the rejection of celibacy as a law, the dissolution
of the distinction between commands and counsels, and the stress
on the functional character of the pastor's office (presupposing
always the rile vocatus), Protestants emphasized the interdependence
of men and women in a joint task of creating a Christian society.
Marriage stands at the center of a God-given order. Matthew Zell,
a Protestant preacher at the cathedral in Strassburg, argued in a
famous sermon that, since woman was made from man, this proves
not that women are subordinate to men but that man can only
attain his full perfection in marriage. Mutual society lies at the
heart of the Christian gospel. As Christ loved the Church, so men
and women are to love each other and to seek their perfection in
an interdependent relationship.

203

Just as marriage is the ordinary and proper state of life for the
Protestant pastor, so, too, are women called to a more active role
in the life and public ministry of the Church. Protestants did not
advocate the ordination of women, though the stress on the com-
mon priesthood confeiTed in baptism and the redefinition of ordi-
nation in functional terms laid the foundation for the ordination
of women in another place and time. Almost all of the arguments
used today to defend the practice of the ordination of women were
known in the 16th century, though none of the people who used
them advocated such a radical break with the long-standing prac-
tice of the Christian churches. Nevertheless, the arguments were
advanced, if only to support a more active role for women among
the laity of the Church. When Katherine Zell, for example, was
told by a critic that St. Paul commanded women to be silent in
the Church, she responded that the same apostle had also taught
that in Christ there is neither male nor female, bond nor free.
Furthermore, the prophet Joel predicted that in the last days
daughters as well as sons would prophesy. And no one who reads
Luke's gospel can fail to be impressed by the fact that Elizabeth
was filled with the Holy Spirit while her husband, Zechariah, was
struck dumb because of his unbelief. Women have a priesthood
to discharge as well as men; like men they are to be Christ to the
neighbor.

This Protestant teaching led to the initiation of certain social
changes and sanctioned others, though one should be careful never
to confuse the intention to effect a change with the change itself.
One can, however, safely observe that the celibate ethic was utterly
destroyed for Protestants, who nevertheless preserved the notion
of an occasional charism of celibacy (which was forced to prove
its credentials before a largely skeptical audience). Protestants
turned the full force of their attention to the institution of mar-
riage and emphasized the interdependence of men and women
within it. Women were no longer regarded as simply dependent
on their husbands, but were expected to assume an active role in
their relationship to them. Martin Bucer once observed that the
only defect of his second wife was that she did not criticize him.
Mutual criticism is an expression of mutual love. Christians are
called to seek their perfection in society rather than in isolation.

Protestant clergy, who were expected to marry (save in very rare
and exceptional cases), were integrated more fully into society. The
home and not the cloister became the arena for the exercise of the
gentler Christian virtues. Marriage was not a concession to human

204

weakness, but the chosen institution for the expression of the inter-
dependence of male and female described in Genesis one and two.
Not only the sexual act but the mutual society of male and female
antedates the fall as the God-given purpose of marriage. "It is not
good for man to be alone," was not spoken of human nature in
a state of sin, but of man as male and female before the fall. Thus
procreation and mutual society take precedence over the "remedy
for concupiscence" as the principal purposes of marriage.

By rejecting the celibate ethic and emphasizing the institution
of marriage as a means for the hallowing of human life, the Refor-
mation created almost incidentally the office of pastor's wife.
Women who had lived a shadowy existence as a priest's concubine
were able to enter into a sexual relationship with their husbands
within officially acknowledged bonds of matrimony. This was
a gain not simply in the sense of delivering these women from an
intolerable burden of guilt (which there was on Protestant grounds
no conceivable reason for them to carry), but also in the sense of
recognizing and honoring their inheritance rights as widows and
the legitimacy of their children. It may be difficult for women who
are currently seeking ordination to regard the creation of the
pastor's wife as a great step forward in the liberation of women
from unjust repression, but for the women involved the Reforma-
tion was a profoundly liberating event.

Women were not ordained as a result of the Protestant Refor-
mation, or, perhaps one should say, not as an immediate result of
the Reformation, but laywomen were given a far greater role in
the lives of the Protestant churches than they had ever exercised
in the medieval Church, even as members of religious orders. At
the very end of her life Katherine Zell described her role as a
pastor's wife in Strassburg. While Katherine had no children and
was able to assume far more duties in Church and community than
the average laywoman, nevertheless she only claimed in practice a
freedom accessible to all women in principle:

That I learned to understand and helped to acknowledge the Gospel I
shall let God declare. That I married my pious husband and for this
endured slander and lies, God knows. The work which I carried on both
in the house and out is known both by those who already rest in God and
those who are still living — how I helped to establish the Gospel, took in
the exiled, comforted the homeless refugees, furthered the Church, preach-
ing and the schools, God will remember even if the world may forget or
did not notice ... I honored, cherished and sheltered many great, learned
men, with care, work and expense ... I listened to their conversation and
their preaching, I read their books and their letters and they were glad to

205

receive mine . . . and I must express how fond I was of all the old, great
learned men and founders of the Church of Christ, how much I enjoyed
listening to their talk of holy things and how my heart was joyful in these
things.3

III

What may be concluded from this brief sketch as important for
the Church in the present to consider? Let me note only some
things which seem to me important:

1. The Protestant churches were correct to accept celibacy as
a gift and to reject it as a law. Celibacy is an authentic form of
Christian discipleship, and the freedom of the gospel means at the
very least that some Christians will, for whatever reasons, be led
to adopt this style of life. The Protestant churches are in error,
therefore, when they identify celibacy with homosexuality and make
marriage a law. A Church which respects the freedom of the
gospel may not require its clergy to be celibate; by the same token
a Church which respects that same freedom dare not require its
clergy to be married. Against such legalism stand the words of
Jesus, the teaching of Luther, and the example of Paul and Asbury.

2. The Protestant emphasis on the interdependence of men and
women in marriage and the common calling of men and women to
seek the will of God in mutual relationship is an important cor-
rective to theologies which subordinate women to men, on the one
hand,^ or which dispense with the relationship between male and
female as trivial, on the other. Men and women are created for
each other; they are bound to each other by ties of mutual depen-
dence within the institution of marriage and outside it. The
imago dei is an imago trinitatis in the sense that the society of
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is reflected in the society of man who
is created male and female. Mutual dependence involves for most
Christians the task of living a faithful covenant in sexual partner-
ship. For Christians who choose celibacy it involves caring and
sacrificial relationships with men and women in the full range of
our common life together.

The plain fact is that Christian men and women need each
other in order to be as much as possible the Church of Jesus Christ
in our time and place, and to obey as fully as possible the will of
God in our personal and corporate relationships. There is no room
in the Church for misanthropy or misogyny. God who created us
male and female calls us to perfection in mutual society. Chris-
tians who seek {>erfection in the exclusive society of one sex will

206

not find it. Therefore while celibacy (which sublimates the sexual
relationship between male and female) may be an authentic form
of Christian discipleship, homosexuality (which denies that rela-
tionship) never is.

3. The Reformation did not sanction the ordination of women
to the public ministry of Word and sacrament. Nevertheless, the
fundamental arguments which sanction that act are already articu-
lated in the Reformation era. Women share in the common priest-
hood committed to all the faithful by baptism. When women are
ordained, they are only authorized to exercise in public a charism
granted to them for private exercise by virtue of their incorporation
into Christ. Women may be forbidden to preach and celebrate the
eucharist only if it may be demonstrated from Scripture that in
Christ there is indeed male and female (contra Paul) and that in
the last days sons shall prophesy while daughters shall demurely
keep silent (contra Peter). Women already belong to a royal priest-
hood; otherwise they are not even members of the Church.

4. That a Christian is a female is no bar to valid ordination in
the Church. But neither is it the basis on which ordination may
be granted. Those persons — and only they — whether male or female,
bond or free, may be ordained for the public ministry of Word
and sacrament who have been called to the ministry by God (rite
vocatus) and who have demonstrated to the Church that they have
— in the happy Wesleyan phrase — "gifts, grace and the promise of
usefulness." The office may be discharged by any baptized Chris-
tian, male or female; its discharge should be restricted, however,
to those Christians who have been called to that ministry and whose
vocation has been acknowledged by the Church. It is a scandal
that women, who are rightly called to that office, are barred from
it, while men, who are not, are admitted. Calling and not sex is
the test of authentic ministry; the Church is called to prove the
spirits, not determine the gender. It is difficult to avoid the con-
clusion that the arguments against the ordination of women, espe-
cially when they are combined with a laxity of standards with
respect to the ordination of men, are only mere sophistry.

Footnotes

1. Jacob Strauss, Ein neiiiv wunderbarlich Beychtbeuchlin (Augsburg, 1523)
as quoted by Steven E. Ozmcnt, The Reformation in the Cities (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1975), pp. 52-53.

2. Sebastian Brant, The Ship of Fools, trans, by E. H. Zeydel (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1941), p. 91.

207

3. Katherine Zell, Em Brief an die genze Burgerschaft der Stadt Strassburg
betreffend Hern Ludwig Rabus (1557) as quoted by Miriam U. Chrisman,
"Women and the Reformation in Strasbourg 1490-1530," ARG 63 (1972), p. 157.

4. I do not mean to imply that traditional Protestant theology did not teach
the subordination of women to men within the context of family and the home;
it certainly did. But the emphases on spiritual equality in Christ, a common
priesthood, companionship, and the rejection of celibacy are far more important
motifs with historical consequences even within the 16th century itself. In his
commentary on Genesis Calvin observed that the male was only half a man and
Adam saw himself complete in his wife. That is frequently overlooked in the
rush to condemn the Protestant teaching of the obedience of women to men.
I cannot agree with the judgment of George Tavard that Protestantism has
contributed little original insight to a theology of womanhood (cf. George H.
Tavard, Women in Christian Tradition. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame
Press, 1973, p. 171). It is Protestantism, and not Eastern Orthodoxy or the
Roman Catholic Church, which has found a rationale for the ordination of
women, not by rejecting its tradition, but by taking the implicalions of its
tradition seriously.

Focus On
Faculty

William H. Willimon, Assistant Professor of Liturgy and Worship:

In my seminary years during the frenetic sixties, I knew a
liberated couple who were attempting to raise their little boy free
of parental restrictions and social conventions. Their child roamed
freely in the wildest excesses of misinterpreted Spock.

The child's mother proudly told us that they were never going
to "train" their child to say such shop-worn cliches as "thank you"
or "please." Their child would develop in "freedom," free to
express thanks "naturally" and "spontaneously."

You can imagine how the child developed. Their "free spirit"
was regarded by most people as an undisciplined, insufferable,
selfish brat, the terror of the kindergarten and the beast of the
neighborhood. Never did I hear him utter one "thank you" or
"please" in the time I observed him (observing him at a distance,
of course). He never expressed words of thanks because he was
never taught to do so.

In a way, I think this story relates to a typical Protestant mis-
conception that I will probably be trying to overcome here at Duke
Divinity School. For many of us, "ritual" is a dirty word, evoking
specters of Popish rites of humdrum, mindless formalism. But
the expression of little words like "thanks" and "please" are rituals.
They are learned, patterned, expressions of inner feelings. During
the course of an average day I participate in the ritual of thanking
other people dozens of times. Sometimes I do it in a casual, offhand
manner without deep commitment or thought, as when I thank
the postman for my mail. Sometimes I do it with feelings of great
gratitude, as when a student makes a remark in class that helps
me see something in a new and meaningful way.

While I admit that all of my daily "thank you's" may not be
deeply felt, I am glad that I know how to say "thanks" when I
need to be thankful.

While we are justified in criticizing the shallow rituals that
often clutter our worship, let us remember that ritual is important
and unavoidable. Ritual helps us get by. When someone comes
to our house to visit, my little toddler runs and hides in his room
or dances around wildly. He is uncomfortable and unsure because

209

he has not yet learned the ritual of meeting people. His actions
remind me of many churches that I know whose worship rituals
are often little more than the unplanned, interminable chatter of
the preacher or a mix of unrelated congregational words and
actions. These congregations have forgotten (or have never learned)
our rituals for meeting God. Their worship is cluttered with poor
rituals which neither say nor do what the congregation intends to
say and do. Many of our rituals in worship are better ways of
avoiding God than meeting God.

Religious rituals should tell us what to do when we want to
praise, pray, confess, sing and wouldn't know how unless we had
been taught. Christian worship includes all those gestures, move-
ments, words, objects, and postures which comprise the rituals of
our relating ourselves to God. The question for us in the Church
is not, "Shall we have ritual or not?" The question is, "Will our
religious rituals be adequate for forming and expressing our faith?"

I believe that the disciplined study of worship and liturgy
within the seminary should lead future worship leaders to reflect
critically upon our religious rituals. Worship of the past should
be reconstructed and compared to our present worship; we need
to know what we have lost or gained over the years. The varieties
of worship experiences, such as the worship of the Black Church
and the perspective of women, need to be studied; we need to know
how our tradition can be enriched and how our needs and aspira-
tions can be more fully expressed. Attempts at worship innovation
must be evaluated; we need to know what makes worship "con-
temporary." We need to see that there is as much "ritual" in a
Billy Graham Crusade as in a Roman High Mass, and we need to
see the inadequacy (and downright idolatry) of many of our rituals.
Finally, we need training in the practical "how to" aspects of
worship leadership.

These are some of the things I hope to lead students and faculty
in doing with worship and liturgy at the Divinity School.

It is an exciting time to be teaching, doing, and thinking about
worship. Vatican II opened the door for exciting Roman Catholic
innovation. We Protestants are rediscovering our worship heritage
and the centrality of worship for congregational life. We have
moved through a period of worship antiquarianism in which we
tried to duplicate anything that we thought was old and Gothic
and historically respectable. We have emerged from a recent period
of "experimental" worship in which banners and balloons were

210

thought to entice the holy into our midst. Now we are ready for
serious, reflective, disciplined work on worship in the local church.

My own academic work includes studies at Wofford College,
Yale Divinity School, and Candler School of Theology at Emory.
My work at these schools gave me some tools for reflection and
study on the subject of Christian worship. I am a strong believer
that intense academic study is the best preparation for the prac-
tical and personal demands of the ministry.

But I must admit that I know more about worship ("know" in
the more complete Biblical sense of the word) because of the
churches where I have served as a pastor than because of the
schools where I have been a student. An urbane, proper parish in
New England (and what is more proper than New England?) con-
vinced me that we white middle class types need to admit more
feeling into our worship. An exasperating, difficult, lovable rural
parish in Georgia (and what is more rural than rural Georgia?)
taught me the beauty of simple, devout, heart-felt worship that
breaks all rules of textbook liturgies. A large church in a little
town in South Carolina taught me the joy of "liturgical" worship
in a thoroughly Protestant setting. And a free wheeling little parish
in a seaside resort taught me that our modern world is not as
secular as some have claimed and that most people are just as
hungry to meet God and their fellow Christians in worship as they
have ever been. I here acknowledge my debt to these congregations
who led me to worship while I thought I was leading them.

It might interest you to know that my wife's father (a Duke
Divinity School alumnus) and step-grandmother (a Duke Course
of Study graduate) are active United Methodist ministers in South
Carolina. My wife's grandfather was a United Methodist minister
too. I have thus inherited a great deal of clerical advice (and some
Duke theology) through marriage.

In beginning to teach, and think, and talk about worship and
in leading seminarians to do the same, I remember a remark John
Calvin in his Institutes made about worship. Calvin had been
discussing the Lord's Supper at great length. He ended by com-
menting on the difficulty of speaking about the Sacrament in mere
words:

... I urge my readers not to confine their mental interest within these
too narrow limits, but to strive much higher than I can lead them ... to
break forth in wonder at this mystery, which plainly neither the mind is
able to conceive nor the tongue to express. (IV. VII, 7)

I want this: To reflect with my students and faculty colleagues in

211

a scholarly way on the mystery of worship and liturgy in our
Church without destroying our sense of wonder.

B. Maurice Ritchie, B.D., 1963; Th.M., 1968; Director of Admis-
sions and Student Affairs:

When Dean Langford invited me to my present ministry in
university administration, I was a "visiting lecturer" in history and
religion at Western Carolina University in Cullowhee, North Caro-
lina. My year on that state university campus had been, all things
considered, a good one. I was most impressed by the commitment
of my colleagues in history to the campus and the region. I enjoyed
the built-in demands for reading towards lecture preparation and
personal interchange with more serious students.

But my year at Western made me more aware of dimensions of
my own life which were previously not so clear. I did not feel free
to "own" my identity as an ordained minister in that secular set-
ting— despite the fact that one of my more impudent students
accused me of "droning on like a preacher" in my lectures. I also
discovered that the academic quarter calendar and class size mili-
tated against the close personal relationship with students I had
enjoyed as a student at Davidson College (1954-58), Duke Divinity
School (1958-59; 1961-63; 1968-72) and as campus minister at Appa-
lachian State University in Boone, North Carolina. My educational
and professional experiences had whetted my appetite for more
than I was experiencing in that setting.

Dean Langford's invitation to join the Divinity School staff
particularly interested me because it enabled me to move closer to
the visible church and my relationship to it as an ordained minis-
ter. It also held out the possibility of personal relationships with
students over a three to four year period.

Since my campus ministry days I had considered university
administration as an area of potential ministry. I had known
administrators as a student and as a practicing campus minister
and had been impressed both by their very negative and very posi-
tive models or styles of administration. It was and still is my hope
to run an efficient office which minimizes hassles for students and
faculty and maximizes growth opportunities for both groups. I see
the administrative task as one which should reduce extraneous

212

claims on student and faculty time and serve to foster creative and
growth-producing contacts between these two groups.

Questions and quandaries of colleagues in the annual confer-
ences notwithstanding, I perceive and interpret my present func-
tion as Director of Admissions and Student Affairs as ministry in
the fullest sense of the word. Here I have an opportunity to serve
the church at a very important point in her ministry. I would hope
to enrich her ministry and that of Duke Divinity School through
my presence here. Were this task not reconcilable in the deepest
sense with ordained ministry, I would have to search for another
setting which was so reconcilable.

I have written as if Duke and the church were my entire life.
As important and meaningful as they are, they are but the setting
for a larger life with Dorothy Ann Poole, formerly of Statesville,
North Carolina, and our two handfuls, Laura Evelyn, age 3, and
Caroline Elizabeth, age 2. We enjoy living in the Duke Park sec-
tion of Durham and hope to remain in the city so long as we are
in Durham.

The Divinity School impressed me as a student, and I would
not have returned as a staff person had I not enjoyed good experi-
ences on the campus as a student. I must say in all candor that
my three years on the staff have enhanced my esteem for my col-
leagues. They are not only capable and competent persons; they
also have real commitments to the ministry of the church.

Book
Reviews

RE-INTRODUCING WESLEY:
THE OXFORD EDITION OF THE WORKS OF JOHN WESLEY

Volume 11. The Appeals to Men of Reason and Religion and Certain Related
Open Letters. Edited by Gerald R. Cragg. Oxford: At the Clarendon Press.
1975 (1976). 593 pages, including Appendix and Indexes. $29.95.

"The Place of Wesley in the Christian Tradition" was the main theme for
a Drew University Theological School-Graduate School Consultation, October
9-11, 1974, to celebrate publication of the first volume of the Oxford Edition
of the Works of John Wesley. Distinguished Wesley scholars and churchmen of
several countries and communions — Roman Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran, Re-
formed, as well as Methodist — gathered for addresses by Albert C. Outler of
Southern Methodist University, Gordon Rupp of Cambridge, Martin Schmidt
of Heidelberg, Frank Baker of Duke, Father Michael Hurley of the Irish Ecu-
menical Institute, Bishop James K. Mathews of Washington, with learned com-
mentary by Robert E. Cushman of Duke, Horton Davies of Princeton, Lawrence
D. Mcintosh of Drew, Colin Williams of Yale, and others. It was expected that
this volume of Wesley's doctrinal affirmations and controversies would there be
presented by the representative of Oxford University Press. The bad news was
that it was still delayed in completion, and would be very costly; the good news
was that we could see it then in page proof, and that it would be worth the
waiting and the cost.

At last we have it, and while observing this year the fiftieth anniversary of
Duke Divinity School and the bicentennial of Methodism in North Carolina, we
may fittingly celebrate also the first-fruits of a concurrent half-century of
scholarly devotion singularly in keeping with the indefatigable labors of Wesley
two centuries earlier. It was just over fifty years ago, the year before Duke
University opened the "School of Religion" in 1926, that an Enghsh Methodist
boy named Frank Baker, a native of Hull, began collecting Wesleyana as a
hobby. By 1960 his collection had grown to some 17,500 volumes, documents,
and manuscripts. During those years he had become a Methodist minister and
teacher, earned the Ph.D. at Nottingham University with a voluminous dis-
sertation on John Wesley's protege and intended successor, William Grimshaw,
and served as Secretary of the Wesley Historical Society of England, member of
the World Methodist Council, and Joint Secretary of the International Method-
ist Historical Society.

Accordingly when Dean Cushman of Duke Divinity School, Professor Outler
and Dean Merrimon Cuninggim of Perkins School of Theology, Professor Franz
Hildebrandt of Drew Theological School, and other scholars were considering
the need for a new critical edition of the works of John Wesley, they turned to
Frank Baker as archivist and bibliographer, and sought his collection as basic
material. In 1960 Dean Cushman took the lead in forming a Board of Directors,
including also the Deans of Methodist theological schools at Drew, Emory,
Southern Methodist, and later Boston University, to sponsor the "Wesley's Works
Editorial Project." On November 5, 1961, the Durham Morning Herald carried
a lengthy news release from Dean Cushman, University Librarian Benjamin E.

214

Powell, and Divinity School Librarian Donn Michael Farris, announcing acqui-
sition by Duke University of "the largest collection of the writings of John and
Charles Wesley which exists on the American continent and one of the most
outstanding in the world . . . the Frank Baker Collection of Wesleyana and
British Methodism." "Duke now has acquired not only Dr. Baker's collection,"
continued the article, "but the man as well." Frank Baker had already joined
our faculty.

Since that time he has labored prodigiously as bibliographer, as textual
editor, eventually as editor-in-chief of the projected thirty-four volume series.
Many othei- scholars have shared in this immense undertaking, as members of
the boards of directors, general editors, imit editors, assistants in textual work,
and specialists helping to identify sources and allusions, and their manifold
achievements will become apparent in due course. But surely none but Frank
Baker would and could so faithfully and competently, so exhaustively and
meticulously, search out, read and re-read, document, decipher, collate, and
master so many editions and variant details of every discoverable writing of the
Wesleysl

During these fifteen years of bibliographical, textual, and editorial work he
has taught regularly, traveled, lectured and preached widely, and published not
only numerous scholarly articles but several major books, including Representa-
tive Verse of Charles Wesley (Epworth Press, 1962) and a revised edition, Charles
Wesley's Verse: An Introduction (Epworth, 1964); William Griinshaw: 1708-1763
(Epworth, 1963); John Wesley and the Church of England (Abingdon Press,
1970); and recently From Wesley to Asbury: Studies in Early American Method-
ism (Duke University Press, 1976). His principal life work, however, in past and
years to come, is the Wesley's Works Editorial Project. He is directly respon-
sible as unit editor for much that is to come: the seven volumes of Letters
(Volumes 25-31) and the two volumes of Bibliography of the Works of John and
Charles Wesley (Volumes 32-33). His groundwork for the Bibliography is already
evident in A Union Catalogue of the Publications of John and Charles Wesley
(230 pp.; Duke Divinity School, Duke University, 1966) and a brief (19-page)
Basic Bibliography of Methodist History: Writings of the Wesleys. These are
foundational to his enormous task of providing each unit editor with the
definitive annotated text and explanatory appendix for each document and
volume.

Why .should Frank Baker and many others engage in an undertaking of such
magnitude and duration to present the Wesley of the eighteenth century anew
to the late twentieth? Not just because the material is "there" (if so laboriously
sought), though that were justification enough in the groves of Academe. The
teaching Church has more intrinsic and compelling reasons, for the sake of an
ecumenical comprehension now more sensitive to Wesley's faith and a Method-
ism too generally uninstructed in its rich heritage and direction. It is not
without significance that four decades of "theological rediscovery of John
Wesley" have involved sympathetic scholars of various traditions who would
identify Wesley's affinities with Calvinism, Roman Catholicism, Anglicanism,
Lutheranism, Moravianism and other Pietism, Puritanism, the Greek Fathers,
the Caroline Divines, or recent Liberalism, Neo-Orthodoxy, Pentecostalism, or
Fundamentalism. While some have erred in partisan discovery and interpre-
tation, in the main they have together illuminated an integral centrality and
depth of faith and doctrine capable of holding tensions in dynamic synthesis
(as Albert Outler is fond of emphasizing). "John Wesley for Any Season" was
the headline for the British Methodist Recorder report on the Drew Consulta-
tion: "John Wesley emerged from a consultation on his place in the Christian
tradition . . . just as stubborn, imperious, self giving, and lovable as ever —
perhaps the only really militant middle-of-the-roader in theological history."

215

If "middle-of-the-roader" is apt as reminder of his "catholic spirit" and willing-
ness to "think and let think" as regards "opinions" (non-essentials), it should
not be misconstrued to imply theological indeterminateness or indifference.
An Earnest Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion, A Farther Appeal, and the
several Open Letters comprising this present volume ring loud and clear with
affirmation, interpretation, and defense of essential doctrines, which he sum-
marizes at the beginning of the Farther Appeal: "I will briefly mention what
those doctrines are before I consider the objections against them. Now all I
teach respects either the nature and condition of justification, the nature and
condition of salvation, the nature of justifying and saving faith, or the Author
of faith and salvation" (p. 105). "Militant" may be the word for his ensuing
vindications of doctrinal faithfulness, corrections of misinterpretations and
slanders, resolute logical arguments, polemical counterattacks, and withal,
evangelical appeals even to abusive opponents. Perhaps "An Earnest Appeal
to Men of Reason and Religion" yet remains the term for Wesley's rational
strategy of faith and love.

It was in his very firmness as to what mattered most — or rather, firm con-
fidence in "the Author of faith and salvation"— that he could freely welcome
the authentic witness of other individuals and communions for unity in fellow-
ship and mission, and could discriminatingly appropriate and hold in produc-
tive tension much from the widely diverse theological heritage of the centuries.
Wesley's theology — the faith of the Appeals — was steeped in Word in Scripture,
informed and interpreted by doctrinal and ecclesiastical tradition, spiritually
authenticated in personal experience, tested and expressed by reason, intuitive
and discursive, and formulated with simple clarity and urgent concern for the
poor, the neglected, the downtrodden, the unawakened. A fresh re-appropriation
of its Wesleyan faith, rooted in his "quadrilateral" authority of Scripture, tra-
dition, experience, and reason, and expressed in re-thought "folk theology"
(again, Outler) for fellowship and mission in our time, might yet save United
Methodism from turning pluralism into polarity, liberalism into vacuity, ortho-
doxy into obscurantism, churchmanship into power struggles, and indeed theo-
logical scholarship into irresponsible ease in academic Zion. As Gordon Rupp
said, "The John Wesley we much need to hear today is the author of the
'Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion.' "

But a thorough study of Wesley today requires much more of his literary
legacy than is generally available, and in definitive text with critical commen-
tary relating it to history and context. Thtre has never been a comprehensive
critical edition of his works. As Professor Baker and others remind us, Wesley's
own first edition of his collected Works (1771-74) in thirty-two small volumes
lacked his later writings, included edited matter of others, was error-ridden
with careless printing and hurried editing, and is now a rare item available to
few in treasured archives. Joseph Benson's second edition (1809-13) in seventeen
larger volumes was more inclusive and discriminating, and well indexed, but
still incomplete, uncritical, and now rare. The third ("standard ") edition by
Thomas Jackson (1829-31) in fourteen volumes, later augmented, often reprinted,
was likewise incomplete, lacking in critical annotation and interpretation, and
now is also out of print. The same is true of John Emory's first American
edition of seven volumes (1831), based on Jackson's. Nehemiah Curnock sup-
plied copious supplementary material and interpretation in his eight-volume
edition of John Wesley's Journals (1909-16), as did John Telford in eight
volumes of Letters (1931), but Dr. Baker has seven hundred additional letters
to add, with further introduction and annotation. Moreover, even in reprint
these volumes are hard to come by; and so are Edward H. Sugden's annotated
two volumes of the doctrinally essential Standard Sermons (1921), which included
just over a third of Wesley's printed sermons. Even the standard Explanatory

216

Notes upon the New Testament (1755, often reprinted) will require a new
edition with critical introduction and contemporary annotation.

The Oxford Edition of John Wesley's Works undertakes to provide the
wanted comprehensive and critical edition. The present Volume 11 embodying
The Appeals to Men of Reason and Religiojx and Certain Related Open Letters
is an especially appropriate "earnest" of things to come. It not only offers
Wesley's exposition and defense of his essential teachings, in clarifying context
of controversy over doctrines and methods; it also exemplifies the superlative
textual work, introductions and interpretations, indexing, and book production
to be expected in forthcoming volumes. A major task of the textual editor and
his editorial colleagues was the identification of a myriad scriptural, classical,
and contemporary literary quotations and references, many of which Wesley
had left without documentation: especially the innumerable indirect quotations,
paraphrases, and allusions flowing almost unconsciously in his Bible-saturated
thought and language. Some of the theological references take on special impor-
tance for their implications as to Wesley's affinities and influences. Other refer-
ences to ancient or current writers would be obscure to most of today's readers
unless interpreted or identified. Much of this work for this volume and others
to come was Frank Baker's. His main task, however, is evident in his modest
but awe-evoking Appendix, which should settle any question as to whether a
meticulously collated critical edition of the text itself were a prime desideratum.
Here are exhibited the processes and outcomes of his textual reconstruction,
with a stemma showing relationships of original and subsequent editions of
each document; an explanation of the derivation of a definitive text from these
various editions amid a plethora of errors, variations, and revisions; and an
exhaustive list of "all plausible variant readings noted which involve the
omission, addition, or alteration of any word . . . with the editions in which
they occur" (p. 543); and with a helpful orthographic explanation of treatment
of Wesley's (and his printers') typography, spelling, abbreviations, capitalizations,
italics, quotations, ellipses, punctuations, citations, paragraphing, headlines, etc.
It is no wonder that the unit editor for this volume acknowledged in his
Preface his great debt to Frank Baker: "His wide familiarity with everything
connected with Wesley's life and his minute knowledge of the text of Wesley's
works have made his help invaluable at every point. It is obvious that he
knows a great deal more about the text than anyone since Wesley: indeed, he
probably knows more about many aspects of it than did Wesley himself." The
people who gave us not only John Wesley but Sherlock Holmes have also given
us Frank Baker!

If the need for such a definitive critical text is now demonstrated in its
accomplishment, the further need for scholarly introduction and interpretation
is surely enforced by its lack earlier and provision now in the work of the unit
editor. Dr. Gerald R. Cragg. This distinguished Brown Professor (now Emeritus)
of Ecclesiastical History, Andover Newton Theological School, a member of the
United Church of Canada and graduate of Toronto, Cambridge, and McGill
Universities, and perhaps the only editor from outside the fold of Methodism
and its schools, was a felicitous choice to build upon Dr. Baker's textual foun-
dations and present the Wesley of these particular documents, in what turned
out to be the introductory volume of the series. His range and expertise are
established through such notable studies of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century
English church history and theology as From Pwitanism to the Age of Reason
(Cambridge, 1950), Puritanism in the Period of the Great Persecution (Cam-
bridge, 1957), The Church and the Age of Reason (Penguin, 1960), Reason and
Authority in the Eighteenth Century (Cambridge, 1964), The Cambridge Pla-
tonists (Oxford, 1968), and Freedom and Authority in the Early Seventeenth
Century (Westminster, 1975).

217

It would be difficult to think of a scholar better prepared to interpret
Wesley's message and movement in terms of his theological derivations and
distinctive positions, and in relation to the issues, dynamics, and literature of
contemporary religious controversies. Professor Cragg's contribution is in fact
substantial and richly illuminating: almost seventy pages, half devoted to
general introduction and the remainder to brief introductions to the several
documents in terms of occasions, personages, issues, exchanges, and significance.
In addition there are copious footnotes identifying references, historical con-
texts, and principals in the ecclesiastical scene. Readers having access to these
Wesley publications only in older collections like Jackson's, lacking such anno-
tation, suffer unrealized impoverishment of understanding in missing Dr. Cragg's
informative introductions and critical comments. These range from interpre-
tations of Wesley as a person and a thinker,- through such issues as the meanings
of faith, justification, new birth, sanctification; the relation of faith and works,
the accusations of antinomianism and 'enthusiasm," to the methods of Wesley's
movement, the writings, positions, and character of his opponents, and the style
of controversial argument in that time.

To summarize the Wesley publications gathered in this volume, or even the
editor's analytical summaries and contents, would be gratuitous and unduly
protracting. Something of their content and function has already been adum-
brated. It is important, however, to distinguish them further from the main
bulk of Wesley's writings which served primarily for nurture and instruction
of his followers and fellow-travelers in the evangelical revival. Here we have
Wesley for outsiders, critics, opponents, and therefore more in apologia and
defense; and while still characteristically clear and unaffected of thought and
language, yet more the Oxford don at home in the classics and the languages,
in logic and debate, in fine points of doctrinal history and Biblical argument.
The Earnest Appeal (1743) — better known today than the other documents
through Outler's excellent volume of John Wesley (Oxford, 1964) and Bishop
Herbert Welch's older Selections (Abingdon-Cokesbury, 1918, revised 1942) — is,
to be sure, widely general in address ("to Men of Reason and Religion"), and
a winsome, luminous, edifying presentation of the faith and methods of the
movement designed to correct misunderstandings and win sympathetic response.
Its much longer sequel, A Farther Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion (in
three parts, 1745-46), is more argumentative, responding to particular critics,
and not only vigorously defending his doctrines (as truly Anglican and Biblical),
his manner of teaching (as appropriate and lawful), and the effects of the revival
(as grossly misinterpreted), but also mounting the offensive in counter-criticism
of the irreligion of certain opponents, the parlous state of religion in the nation,
and the failure of the various churches to be true to their faith and calling;
in contrast the development of the Wesleyan movement is exhibited for its
faithfulness, relevance, and effectiveness.

Wesley could be forthright yet respectful, as in A Letter to the Right Rev-
erend the Lord Bishop of London (1747; Bishop Edmund Gibson was a dis-
tinguished though unfair critic), and A Letter to the Rev. Mr. Home: Occa-
sioned by his late Sermon Preached before the University of Oxford (1761;
George Home was earnestly concerned over apparent antinomianism in Wesley's
view of justification by faith); both men were eminent, able, and presumed
open to correction of prejudice and misconception; and both were honored by
still noteworthy replies. But Wesley could be severely if tediously counter-
critical in dealing with abusive detractors such as Bishop George Lavington of
Exeter and Bishop William Warburton of Gloucester; witness Wesley's worrying
out of argument with the former in A Letter to the Author of The Enthusiasm
of Methodists and Papists Compar'd (1750), A Second Letter (1751) to the same,
prefaced by "A Letter to the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Exeter"

218

exposing his supposed anonymity of authorship, and finally A Second Letter
to the Lord Bishop of Exeter (1752). Wesley dealt Warburton similar polemical
justice in A Letter to the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Gloucester. Occa-
sioned by his Tract, on the Office and Operations of the Holy Spirit (1763).
Lest readers weary with well doing neglect these lengthy disputations, they
should be promised not only gems such as the closing section of that last essay,
printed elsewhere as "A Plain Account of Genuine Christianity," but also rich
ore of historical information and radiant deposits of faith and practice through-
out the volume. Through it all pulses Wesley's magnificent obsession with the
grace of God in Jesus Christ and all creation, especially in the present activity
of the Spirit in the whole order of salvation.

For this volume and the entire editing and publishing project, congratu-
lations and appreciation are due the General Editors, Bishop William R. Can-
non of Atlanta, Professor Cushman of Duke, Dr. Rupert E. Davies of Bristol
(former Principal and theological professor of Wesley College and former Presi-
dent of the British Methodist Conference), and his illustrious English Methodist
predecessor, Dr. Eric W. Baker; the Board of Directors, chaired by Dean Joseph
D. Quillian of Perkins School of Theology, and including Dean Thomas A.
Langford of Duke; the Editorial Board, including all the preceding and Pro-
fessor Richard P. Heitzenrater of Centre College (Duke A.B., B.D., Ph.D.), Pro-
fessor John Lawson of Candler School of Theology, Dr. Gerald O. McCulloh of
the Board of Higher Education and Ministry, Nashville, and Dr. Philip S. Wat-
son of Surrey, England, Professor Emeritus of Garrett-Evangelical Theological
Seminary, Mr. John A. Vickers, who is responsible for the extensive indexes of
this volume and for the final volume of Miscellanea and General Index; several
ecclesiastical, academic, and financial sponsors of the project; and finally, the
officers and technical experts of the Clarendon Press, Oxford University, for
producing a fittingly handsome, substantial, almost flawless volume and promis-
ing more. We may happily anticipate the next volumes forthcoming, which
may be Wesley's Sermons, edited by Professor Albert C. Outler.

If there is to be one negative note, it is about the high cost, fully justifiable
by expenses but discouraging to scholars and clergy who might want to begin
this new collection of Wesley's Works. All we can do is to suggest a network
of hinting services to alert spouses and congregations wondering what to give
their ministers for Christmas and special occasions!

McMurry S. Richey

The Gospel and the Land: Early Christianity and Jewish Territorial Doctrine.
W. D. Davies. University of California Press. 1974. 521 pp. $15.
(This review was translated from the German by Professor Frederick Herzog.)

It is not easy for a systematic theologian to review the book of a New Testa-
ment scholar. It is equally difficult to fuse the recent interest in the Jewish/
Christian dialogue with a purely historical interest in the ideas of primitive
Christianity. But what would be the point of New Testament specialists re-
searching the history of primitive Christianity if amateur systematicians would
not use the results? What is more, how can the Jewish/Christian dialogue be
advanced fruitfully today unless Christians time and again "return" to their
origins in Israel?

Whenever Christians return to their historical origins in Israel, they en-
counter there not only the so-called "Old Testament monotheism" — as Christian
theologians falsely labeled the Jewish concept of God — but also the history of
the people of Israel from which came Jesus. They encounter not only the
people of Israel, but also the land — "Erez Israel."

There was a period of Christian theology when one separated God from his
people in order to take over Israel's concept of God while rejecting Israel as

219

God's people. This form of Christian exploitation of Israel dominated liberal
theology in the nineteenth century. Unfortunately the same thing still happens.
There followed a time of the discovery of the indivisible partnership between
God and people in the Old Testament, as one realized the fundamental signifi-
cance of the covenant. As a result, Christian "Theology of the Old Testament"
researched and depicted the traditions of Israel. Strangely enough the question
of the theological significance of the "Erez Israel" was rarely explicated. Chris-
tian theology acknowledged God and the people of Israel, but still made a
division between the people of God and the land of God. The practical impli-
cations of this limited acknowledgment of Israel as a people are obvious:
Christianity acknowledges Israel as people of a religion, but not as people of a
state in a particular "land." And yet according to all Jewish sources known to
us, God, the people, and the land belong together in an indivisible unity. Only
when this unity is acknowledged have we overcome the latent anti-Judaism of
Christianity.

Since the founding of the state of Israel (1948) the issue of the land is at the
center of the Jewish/Christian dialogue. After nearly 2000 years Jewish exist-
ence can again be lived in the Jewish land. For the first time Christians en-
counter no longer only Jews in the diaspora, but citizens of Israel. That's a
novum. Therefore the theme, "The Gospel and the Land," is all the more
important. We cannot be grateful enough to W. D. Davies for spending time
and effort over many years in the exploration of this theme climaxing in the
present publication. For a long time it will be the standard work for the theme
of "Erez Israel," although the author in typical British understatement calls it
"strictly a prolegomenon."

The book is structured in a very clear way. Part I offers the theology of
the land in "Israelite Religion and Judaism." Part II treats "The Land of the
New Testament." Four appendices conclude the work. Old Testament scholars
will be especially interested in Chapter IV, "The Land in Extrabiblical Sources,"
in which apocrypha, pseudepigrapha, Qumran, and rabbinical sources — materials
otherwise often little accessible — are examined. In the New Testament part, I
was especially fascinated by Chapter VII, "The Land in the Pauline Epistles."

W. D. Davies offers his summary in "XII. Conclusion." Since pp. 366-376
are the theologically most important, I refer especially to these pages. Already
in the New Testament the author discovers four different Christian attitudes
toward "Erez Israel": (1) Rejection, (2) Spiritualization, (3) Historical Concern,
(4) Sacramental Concentration. The historian keeps his own judgment wisely
to himself. But it becomes apparent in two quotes: "The New Testament finds
holy space wherever Christ is or has been: it personalized 'holy space' in Christ,
who, as a figure of history, is rooted in the Land" (p. 367); and, "In sum, for
the holiness of place, Christianity has fundamentally, though not consistently,
substituted the holiness of the Person: it has Christified holy place" (p. 368).
These sentences might sound ambiguous. But if one sees how carefully W. D.
Davies distinguishes historically between Jewish, Jewish Christian, and Gentile
Christian utterances about "Erez Israel," these sentences do appear as the best
of all possible statements a "Gentile Christian" can make about the land.

For Jewish existence "Erez Israel" belongs to the covenant, the promise, and
the Torah of God. For Jewish Christian existence "Erez Israel" belongs to the
redemptive rule of the Messiah Jesus. The land is liberated in the coming of
the Messianic age. But what can "Erez Israel" come to mean for a Gentile
Christian? Is it only a historical recollection of the land in which Jesus lived?
Or a symbol for the heavenly kingdom? Or a limited anticipation of the "new
earth"?

If a Gentile Christian has access to the promissory history of Israel only
through the mercy of God manifest in Christ, his or her attitude toward the

220

land cannot be identical with the Jewish outlook or vice versa. As Christ
(Rom. 15:8fF.) appears different to a Jew than to a Gentile, so will "Erez Israel."
In this sense, I believe, W. D. Davies has found a good formulation when he
says: "The New Testament has personalized holy space in Christ, it has Christi-
fied holy space." For a Gentile Christian "the land" is accessible only en Christo.
Once that has been said, one has to take a further step and recognize the
universal character of Christ: Jesus Christ is not a "private person," but the
eschatological person of God, or as later trinitarian doctrine has it: the God-
person. Which means, in and through the person of Christ the wide realm of
God's rule is opened up. In it land and space are sanctified, also "Erez Israel."
The "Holy Land" is "Christified" justifiably for the Gentile Christian, if Christ
and his rule are understood and "universalized" eschatologically. In the Old
Testament the land first was a "promised land." Having been acquired by
Israel, it also turned into a "promising" land.

Precisely in the fulfillment of the promise the land pointed beyond its
borders toward that future in which all lands (the whole earth) will be full of
the glory of God (Is.6:3). Of this future of universal glory Christians believe
that it already has begun in the death and resurrection of Christ while at the
same time they remember the universal promise of the "Erez Israel." As the
new creation will be without a temple, since it is holy through and through,
the new earth will also no longer know of a particular land of Israel. Until
then "Erez Israel" is and remains also for the Christians "God's land."

Jiirgen Moltmann
Professor of Systematic Theology
Tiibingen University

Pauline Parallels. Fred O. Francis
and J. Paul Sampley. Philadelphia
and Missoula, Montana: Fortress and
Scholars Press, 1975. 388 pp. $10.95.

As the authors themselves describe
it, "the text of the Pauline Parallels
is composed of a sequential presenta-
tion of each of the ten chief letters
attributed to Paul ... in their canoni-
cal order, each in its . . . entirety:
that is, Romans is followed through
to its end, then I Corinthians ....
then 2 Corinthians and so forth. . . ."
(p. 1). There are ten columns on each
folio (pair of facing pages) in which
the main text and the relevant or
parallel passages from the other nine
Pauline letters are displayed. The
main text, printed in its entirety, is
set off by vertical boldface lines on
either side. Each letter maintains its
relative position among the ten col-
umns throughout the parallels. Thus
Romans is always found in column
one, I Corinthians in column two,
Philemon in column ten, etc. The
texts paralleled are divided into sense-
units, as in synoptic parallels. In each

sense-unit there are the primary pa-
rallels, arranged as we have just indi-
cated, and a set of secondary parallels
printed underneath in parallel col-
umns and representing (from left to
right on each folio) the pastorals and
Acts (and occasionally other NT docu-
ments), more remote Pauline texts,
and the Old Testament. The primary
parallels have been chosen on the
basis of (1) similarity of language, (2)
similarity of images, or (3) similarity
of letter structure or form.

This is a potentially valuable tool,
reflecting the industry and ingenuity
of the editors. It manifests, however,
some problems and potential pitfalls
for the unwary or unschooled user,
which are obvious enough and actu-
ally intrinsic to the material itself.
Certainly it is useful to have displayed
in parallel columns Pauline greetings,
thank.sgiving, and benedictions, as well
as characteristic topoi of Pauline the-
ology and ethics (e.g., 1 Cor. 12:4-11
and Rom. 12:3-8; Eph. 4:1-16). More-
over, to have arranged in parallel
columns such data as Paul's references
to his anticipated third visit to Co-

221

rinth will be a great aid even to ex-
perienced teachers and scholars. More
dubious or problematic is the arrange-
ment of parallel passages where the
relation among texts is not so im-
mediately obvious. Thus one is some-
what surprised to find 2 Cor. 10:1-6
and Phil. 1:12-18 paralleled with Rom.
l:16f. Having committed themselves
to produce a complete set of Pauline
parallels, the editors inevitably pro-
duce some parallels that appear re-
mote or forced. This is not to say that
the undertaking is not worthwhile,
only that the result must be viewed
and used with some caution, as the
editors themselves warn (p. 2).

D. Moody Smith

The Radical Imperative: from Theol-
ogy to Social Ethics. John C. Ben-
nett. Westminster, 1975. 208 pp.
$4.50, paper.

At first glance the title of this book.
The Radical Imperative, would not
seem suitable for the mind and style
of John Bennett, known among ethi-
cists, theologians, and in ecumenical
conferences the world over as bal-
anced, quiet, low-keyed, irenic, tem-
perate. Certainly not a "flaming"
radical. But a careful reading of its
200 tightly-reasoned pages would con-
firm the aptness of the title, as well
as verify the author's reputation as
the most eminent Protestant ethicist
in America today, as contemporary as
he is wise.

Robert Frost once said, "I was never
a liberal when young for fear of be-
coming conservative when old." John
Bennett would belie that salty com-
ment. Throughout his long career as
ecumenical statesman, administrator,
teacher, and scholar, he has spoken
with consistent integrity the prophetic
word, the radical implications for
social policy of Christian ethical
norms. Interestingly, he comments in
his preface that "the spirit of this
book is closer to that of my first book.
Social Salvation, published forty years
ago, than to many things I have writ-

ten during the intervening years."
(p. 10)

Bennett takes a careful measure of
the many ethical currents and move-
ments that have transpired during
these years. His normative theological
standpoint is Biblical and Christo-
centric, but it is the prophetic Christ,
the "Christ of the comma" (between
"born of the Virgin Mary, suffered
under Pontius Pilate") who is the
paradigm and norm. He repudiates
any sort of Biblical legalism, but char-
acteristically distances his position
carefully from "situation" ethics, if
that is taken to mean the anomic
ethics of on-the-spot improvisation.
But also the Christian historic tradi-
tion of the past, both Roman Catholic
and Protestant, provide guidelines for
contemporary ecumenical ethical
thinking. Vatican 11 of the Roman
Church and the major conferences of
the WCC, in which the author played
a crucial role, reached a remarkable
degree of consensus and a perspective
transcendent of the parochial confine-
ment of nation, class, or ecclesiastical
tradition. And this is one of the most
encouraging things he finds in con-
temporary Christian ethical thought,
discouraging as it is, to be sure, to
find the local churches so oblivious
of and resistant to ecumenical ethical
standards.

This reader is especially grateful for
Bennett's analysis of the theologies of
liberation. The author acknowledges
in contrition his myopia of a WASP
and male outlook now so sharply
challenged by Women's Lib, by Black
Power advocates, and such Latin
American proponents of revolution
against American capitalistic imperial-
ism as Gustavo Gutierrez. He rightly
describes James Cone, leading black
spokesman for Black Theology, as a
"strategic" theologian, in that Cone
concentrates on one aspect of Christian
ethics neglected by the dominant
white establishment. Cone has to
shout to be heard, but his shout is
distortive of the truth. The corrective
word of a Cone is needed, but this
reader shares with the author a pro-

222

test that Cone in effect puts up a
sign on the gate leading to Christian
liberation: Black Only.

The strong influence of the Social
Gospel is apparent through these
pages. Bennett's critique of capitalism
is as biting as was that of Rauschen-
busch, though his suggested prescrip-
tions are much less romantic. But
though in the twenties and thirties
Bennett was a socialist in economic
theory, he did not then or does not
now adopt any form of Marxism as
the Christian's inevitable alternative
to free enterprise capitalism. While
he appropriates the Marxist's doctrine
of ideology: that a person's religion
is colored by his economic class po-
sition, his own stance also refutes such
a simplistic reduction, since the Chris-
tian imperative Bennett calls for is a
radical restructuring of the economic
order, "taming of private economic
empires," etc.

Although he is by no means an
absolute pacifist, Bennett was one of
the first leaders in American churches
to protest the morality of the Indo-
china war. From that tragic episode,
as he recounts the deepening Ameri-
can complicity, one major lesson he
feels we must learn is that "the United
States should not use its power to
keep other nations from having their
own revolutions" (p. 179). On one
minor matter he seems to waver: his
realism leads him to "admit that in
an armed world unilateral disarma-
ment, would be both politically non-
viable and wrong." Yet in the very
next sentence, "unilateral initiatives
in disarmament should be tried" (p.
161), and later, "adventurous initia-
tives to reduce armaments even uni-
laterally are essential" (p. 184).

What is remarkable about Bennett's
whole long fulfilled vocation as spokes-
man for Christian justice and com-
pelling about this book is that even
when he has taken a long hard look
at all the perils that confront civili-
zation, and the ubiquity of human
sin, he can still affirm, in confidence,
that "we may live in a world with
hope for future embodiments in his-

tory of justice and reconciliation" (p.
200). Such seasoned optimism can
only come from a profound faith in
Providence.

Waldo Beach

We Can Have Better Marriages, If We
Really Want Them, David and Vera
Mace. Abingdon. 1974. 172 pp. $5.95.

This is a passionate book, not a
particularly scholarly book. The Maces
are advocating a cause out of their
feelings, experiences and supporting
data. The cause is marriage and the
goal is enrichment of all of our mari-
tal relationships so that they may be-
come companionable ones. They agree
that marriage as a caste-like social in-
stitution is probably going to die in
the future and believe that is all right.
On the other hand, they feel strongly
that companionship is a deeply mean-
ingful and valuable way of being mar-
ried, and they are about the business
of affirming companionship through
the process of "marriage enrichment"
and its organization they have founded
which is called the "Association of
Couples for Marriage Enrichment"
(ACME).

Out of their long careers as clinical
and educational leaders, they state, and
I agree, that companionship and an
enriched relationship probably do not
just "happen." We must look after,
nourish and confront our married life
and the one to whom we are married.
That doesn't guarantee that any rela-
tionship can become enriched but it
does increase significantly the likeli-
hood that it will become so.

Further, couples have to interact
with others in order to grow and
change, say the Maces. Seldom can it
be done alone or simply between the
couple. Individuals and couples have
a great propensity to stay as they are.
Someone else needs to enter the sys-
tem, either by means of marriage ther-
apy or marriage enrichment.

Marriage enrichment is different
from marriage therapy, although both
are potent. Marriage enrichment, as

223

the Maces recommend, is done with
groups of married couples, led by a
married couple, and is for a specified,
short but intense period of time, such
as five to ten hours per day for a
weekend. Marital relationships that
are basically not being affirmed by the
partners are excluded from marriage
enrichment, as are those in which
there is evidence of serious personal
and relational difficulties.

Marriage therapy, on the other
hand, is for longer periods of duration,
Avith less intensity, dealing with all
kinds of personal and marital distress,
and using individual, conjoint and
group processes.

This is an exciting book because
hope flows within it. Most relation-
ships with people, including relation-
ships with those to whom we are mar-
ried, get depressed and stale. The
Maces wish to encourage people to let
go of their sense of guilt and "status
quo" about their marriages, and get
on with making the relationship what
it might become, i.e. "companionship."

Marriage and family is at the core
of life, yet it is also so very ordinary
at times. Some people find it difficult
to accept that ordinariness, and as
someone said, would rather be caught
nude than considered ordinary! Yet
the ordinariness of marriage ought not
be allowed to become an excuse for
our inability to live closely and inter-
actingly with those to whom we would
be companions. Many of us still be-
lieve that marriage can be companion-
ship— vital, nourishing, challenging,
angering, and growth-producing. To
those who still yearn intensely for that
kind of relationship, the Maces are
speaking. If you are companions-in-
the-process-of-becoming, perhaps you
will join inl

John C. Detwiler

To Die With Style. Marjorie Casebier
McCoy. Abingdon. 1974. 175 pp.
$5.95.

In her concluding chapter, Ms. Mc-
Coy says: "So it goes . . . living and
dying, each affecting the other ... it

would seem that the achievement of
death is not really distinguishable
from the achievement of life. It is in

the interaction of the two that we dis-
cover our selves." (My emphasis.)

This book is really about self-dis-
covery; it is against the backdrop of
death that Ms. McCoy explores a
variety of styles of being/ becoming a
self. And I think it is fair to say that
she is convinced that the reality of
death begs the question of the mean-
ing of life.

I was offended by the title and the
introductory section: it had a kind of
death - is-only -a-part - of - life - and -
shouldn't - be - feared tone. But, as I
came to understand the author's in-
tention, I came to appreciate that this
book is what somebody described as
"bibliotherapy." Using a variety of
rich resources — from "Peanuts" to
Shakespeare; from some of her own
experiences with death to the experi-
ences of famous people — she explores
a variety of life-styles (and, therefore,
death -styles).

I especially liked the mid-section,
which deals with several specific life-
styles; but the 'review' questions at
the end of each chapter bothered me.
A good book ought to be a dialogue
between writer and reader anyhow, so
why the questions? (Although discus-
sion groups might appreciate them.)

The topic of death seems to be los-
ing some of its "taboo" quality. My
overall assessment is that Ms. McCoy
has written a sensitive and helpful
book which probes richly and imagi-
natively into the question: "what
judgment does death make on my
identity and on the integrity of my
life?"

It is not a scholarly tome, but it is
one which a good pastor might well
want to suggest to (or use with) his/
her parishioners as a way of taking
seriously the kinds of questions death
poses to the meaning of our lives.
Peter Keese

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